Chapter 23
Ash
I hadn’t stopped thinking about Karla since she got upset with me about the party. Even though her words hurt, they were nothing worse than what I’d already said to myself. I didn’t hate her for it. I didn’t judge her, either.
I just couldn’t be the guy who lied to her and told her that going to the party at Colton’s house was a good idea.
It was the opposite of a good idea. I couldn’t imagine those jerks treating Karla the way she should’ve been treated.
She should’ve been treated like a queen, like royalty. Not as some monster.
They called her “Quasimodo” because of the way she walked. They laughed whenever she moved past them. Sometimes, I’d hear them call her names that I wouldn’t even call my worst enemy. All because she was in a car accident that made her lose her mom.
Karla was already struggling with life; they didn’t have to add extra crap on her back.
Still, even though I was pissed at them, I was more upset with her for letting them back in.
They did nothing to prove to her that they were any good. They didn’t apologize or anything. They simply invited her to some senior party at some guy’s house, and she was acting like it was an invite to freaking heaven.
I was convinced it was a trip straight to hell.
I couldn’t stop wondering if she had gone to the party.
I couldn’t stop wondering how they treated her.
I couldn’t stop thinking that maybe I was wrong.
Maybe they would be nice to her. Maybe they wouldn’t treat her like she was nothing.
Maybe they wouldn’t belittle her anymore.
But nothing in my gut said that was true.
They didn’t deserve her.
And still, she gave herself to them on a silver platter.
Hell, Karla. Why would you let them back in?
Maybe because she was desperate to be liked again after a shit year, but why wasn’t it enough that I liked her?
I liked her, scars and all—and I wasn’t even talking about the markings on her face, but the ones on her soul.
And she didn’t have to be anything more than what she’d been for me to think she was good enough.
But when she called me, I still answered.
“Hello?” I asked, surprised to see her name pop up on my phone.
She didn’t say anything at first. All I heard was uncontrollable sobbing until she said, “Ash . . . I’m sorry. I need you . . . Please come.”
I sat up in my bed feeling something in my gut tighten up.
“Karla, where are you?” I demanded.
“I’m so-s-sorry, Ash. I can’t d-d-do this. I can’t breathe. I ca-can’t . . .”
“Where are you?” I asked again, standing from the bed and tossing on a pair of shoes.
She needed me.
I was still hurt by her and upset, but she needed me.
“The cemetery,” she pushed out as she kept choking on each breath.
“Don’t move. I’m on my way.”
I grabbed my bike, and I left the house. I’d never ridden so fast in my life. The moment I saw her sitting against the ground at her mom’s tombstone, I panicked. She looked completely defeated.
I rushed over and called out her name. “Karla!”
She turned around to face me, and her face was covered in tears. I didn’t know my heart could break into a million pieces until I saw the heartbreak in her eyes. I could tell right then and there that she was at her lowest, and I didn’t even care to ask her what had happened.
I just wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close to me.
“I can’t do this,” she sobbed against me. “I can’t be here,” she said, and I knew what she meant by that. I knew it when she texted me. I knew that she was breaking, and I knew there was no way I could put her back together. So I did the only thing I could—I held her.
“Don’t say that, Karla. You’re OK. We’re OK.”
“I was so mean to you!” she sobbed. “I was mean and you still came, and I don’t deserve this or you, and everything’s a mess, and I can’t, I can’t .
. .” She choked on her tears. “I can’t breathe!
” she cried, breaking into uncontrollable sobs, clawing at her chest as if she was trying to rip out her own heart.
“I don’t want a life without her in it,” she shouted as she gestured toward her mother’s tombstone.
“I want to be with her. I want to be with her. I want to be with . . .”
“Karla, stop it!” I said, grabbing her by her wrists. “You’re just sad right now.”
“No, you don’t get it,” she said, frantically shaking her head back and forth.
“It’s not just right now. I’m always sad.
I’m always broken. And whenever there seems to be a second of everything being OK, it’s gone.
I want it to be over with. I want the hurting to stop, Ash,” she sobbed as her body shook with all her emotions.
“I want out of this place. I want to die. I want to die. I want to—”
“Shut up!” I hollered, her words slicing into me as my brother crossed my mind. He was only a few feet away from us, six feet under. He had those same kinds of thoughts. He had those same kinds of demons. And I wasn’t there.
I wasn’t there when he was at his lowest. I couldn’t save him.
I couldn’t pull him back from the darkness, and that ate at me every single day of my life.
This time was different, though. This time I was here.
This time I could do something. This time I could save her.
“Karla, I swear to God, if you don’t stop talking like that, I’m going to .
. . I’m . . . I’m . . .” My mind was spinning.
What would I have done for my brother if I’d had a chance?
How would I have reacted? How would I have tried to save him from himself? “I’ll get your dad!” I swore.
I meant it, too.
Karla’s house wasn’t far from the cemetery. I could get there fast if need be.
I’d do it.
I’d bike a million miles at the speed of light if it meant that she would stay.
“Don’t leave, Karla,” I choked out, my voice cracking as my hands moved from her wrists to her hands.
I laced my fingers with hers and held them against my chest. “Please don’t do this.
Please? I, just, please,” I begged, I pleaded, I prayed.
“Just stay a little longer, OK? Just try one more time. One more time is all I need, Karla. We can figure it out. I can help make you happier if you let me try. Just, please, Karla—”
“I can’t,” she said, shaking her head. She pulled her hands away from mine, and the slight warmth she’d been supplying me evaporated instantly and was replaced by a chilling coldness.
She kept shaking her head, but she dropped down to the ground.
She covered her hands with her face and broke into a hysterical sob that made my heart break into more pieces than I thought possible.
She was losing it, and I was losing her.
I couldn’t.
“I’ll be back, Karla. OK? Don’t fucking move, all right. I’ll be back. I’m going to get your dad. I’m going, OK, Karla? Stay here. Don’t move,” I begged, I pleaded, I prayed.
I knew her mind was moving too fast for me to waste any time. So I started biking.
I biked the fastest that I ever had as my chest burned and my heart broke.
I dashed around each corner; I hurried past oncoming traffic.
I didn’t stop for a minute to even take a breath because I was too afraid she’d be taking her last. I booked myself to Mr. East’s house, and when I arrived, I pounded on the front door, I hammered my fists against the wood, I buzzed the doorbell repeatedly, I screamed, I shouted, I cried.
“Mr. East! Mr. East, please answer! Mr. Ea—”
The door flew open, and Ellie was standing there with panic-filled eyes. She noticed my expression, and I saw her heartbreak through her eyes. “Where is she, Ash?” she asked, her voice cracking in all the same places that mine had been cracking.
“At the cemetery with her mom,” I choked out.
“That’s what Greyson thought. He’s already on his way to her.”
I breathed out a sigh of relief. Before Ellie could say anything else, I started to bike back toward the cemetery.
My chest burned as I pedaled as fast as possible, and by the time I arrived, I saw Mr. East with his arms wrapped around Karla.
I took a few steps toward them, then hid behind a tombstone.
Even though I’d stopped biking, my chest kept burning. Mr. East held her so tightly, I knew he didn’t have any plans of letting her go any time soon.
Good.
She was still alive.
She was still breathing.
That was all that mattered to me.
After a while, Mr. East led Karla to his car, and they drove off together, leaving me there alone in the cemetery with only the ghosts.
I stayed still for a while as my mind tried to wrap around everything that had happened. I began to ride my bike home, each pedal feeling heavier as my mind spun. As I reached my place, I walked into the house with my shoulders hunched.
Maa was sitting on the couch in the living room sorting through some mail, and she glanced toward me for a quick moment before turning back to the mail.
“Hey, sweetie, where were—” She paused for a second and looked back toward me.
Her eyes flashed with worry as she placed the mail on the couch cushion. “Ashish. What is it? Are you OK?”
The moment those last three words fell from her mouth, my whole body began to shake.
Are you OK?
Am I OK?
Would I ever be OK?
The answer to all those questions felt the same.
I shook my head. “No.”
That was when I finally allowed myself to break. I began sobbing uncontrollably, and within seconds, Maa rushed over to me. She pulled me into her arms and held on tighter than I’d ever been held before.
“What is it, mera beta? What’s wrong?” she asked repeatedly, her voice cracking every few seconds.
But I couldn’t find the strength to say the words, because every single one felt heavy, and the last thing I wanted was for Maa to feel bad.
She’d been feeling bad for over a year. I couldn’t push my issues on her, I couldn’t talk about my struggles, but I was lost. And sad. And scared.
“I miss him,” I confessed, choking on each breath that escaped me.
“I miss him so much. Every second, I miss him, Maa. And I . . . I . . . I miss you. And Dad. I miss you so much. And . . . I’m sorry,” I cried as I pulled against the fabric of her shirt.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I sobbed, thinking about what happened to Karla and what almost happened to her.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I swore, thinking about what happened to Rian.
I felt as if each day I was failing. I felt that each day my own mind was playing tricks on me.
And all I wanted, all I ever wanted, was for the pain to stop.
When did suffering come to an end?
Why did I envy the dead more than the living?
“I’m sorry,” Maa said as she held me tight, wrapping her arms around me. “It’s OK, and I’m sorry.”
I didn’t know what she was apologizing for. She didn’t do anything wrong—I did. I made all the mistakes. I wasn’t there for Rian. I wasn’t there for Karla.
All I wanted was to help.
I couldn’t express that, though, because my mind was moving too fast, and it felt like the whole world was resting against my shoulders. It was too much. Too much hurt, too much pain, too much suffering.
Thankfully, in that moment, Maa held me tight.
I wondered if she wished it was Rian that she was holding instead of me.
That made me cry even harder than before.