Chapter thirty-five
Melody
Two Months Later
Happy birthday. We miss you.
Istare at the screen of my phone, waiting for something. My blue bubble is nestled among the other ones I’ve sent over the months, still unopened. It’s the same song and dance.
I send at least two messages a day to Kaden’s number, and they stay in delivered status. There isn’t even a whisper of a reply on his end. I’ve tried calling a million times. Saint’s phone number no longer works, and Ivan’s goes straight to voicemail. Kaden’s rings, but he never answers.
I scroll through the other messages I’ve sent, each one making my gut turn sour and bitter.
Thinking of you.
Can you at least let someone know you’re alive? We’re worried sick about you.
WHY, KADEN?! ANSWER ME!
Sometimes I wish I had never met you.
I started therapy. You’re a hot topic.
Fuck, I miss you…
Nothing.
He’s been gone for half a year, and still, there’s not a clue where he is. Dr. Harris said I’m experiencing the stages of grief—as if my brother has passed. My shock and denial are long behind me, depression has taken over for a while, and now I’m just angry.
Angry at him for choosing that lifestyle over me after he proclaimed nothing came above me. Angry at my heart for the hateful things I said before we parted ways. Angry at the world for knowing where he is but not giving me a sign about where to find him.
Mom and Dad have searched high and low. Dad has dropped serious money on private investigators and search teams, but there’s nothing. It’s as if Kaden vanished into thin air.
I’m waiting in the hall for my next class to start, sitting with my dress tucked under me as I munch on some grapes.
While my eating has gotten better, sleeping has been the biggest issue.
Dr. Harris prescribed me some medicine that helps me stay asleep, and while I still have nightmares, I’m finally getting more than two hours a night.
Healing is such a slow and grueling process. It’s even harder when you just want the person you’re grieving back. No matter how it could destroy you in the end.
I would take Kaden anyway he came to me—bloodied and broken, a thousand bodies under his belt, an entire underworld at his beck and call. Anything.
I can’t stand to think negatively, but as everything becomes weighed down, only one thought whispers across my mind.
He’s never coming back.
And I think coming to terms with that is the hardest part of this.