Chapter Twenty
Skylar Parish
The locks are changed; the apartment feels empty. The silence that surrounds me is demanding, forcing me to notice the difference in how the air circulates without Everett here to take up space.
I cannot seem to find tears anymore. No matter how hard I try, I can’t cry. Maybe it’s the realization that I’m not as good a person as I thought I was becoming, or maybe it’s simply that I’ve exhausted my tear ducts.
Sitting on the couch, wrapped in a throw blanket, I stare blankly at the black screen of my TV.
Where do I go from here? Should I return to therapy or check myself into some kind of personality conversion camp? I feel stuck.
There are too many horrible thoughts circling my mind. Such as Everett, his hand intertwined with Ashley’s, and how I was so unaware that he’d be more than willing to crush me. Or my parents, who will once again be disappointed by their only child.
I feel guilt for how I treated Jacob, and pity for the friends I’ve made who have to deal with my poisonous personality. I’m so confused about what I’m supposed to do with myself when all the things I’ve been doing haven’t worked.
I’ve been failing daily, without even noticing it.
And Everett… How do I cope with that? I fell in love with my best friend—now my first love—and have lost him, all in such a short period of time.
I will never get the chance to be with him again. Whether it’s tangled within my sheets, feeling the pulse of him so deep inside of me, or his loving gaze as I make him dinner—I will never get to experience his affection again.
I’m not only mourning the man I thought I had become, but the loss of my lifelong best friend. Maybe it was a stupid idea to get involved with him, but how could I not? He was—is—the center of my universe.
Until that first moment he touched me, I had no idea just how possessive and enthralled with him I truly am.
But it’s always been like this, hasn’t it? I was secretly pleased that he never dated, and his tantrums always made my heart pound. Just being around him made life that much easier.
It’s sick. This entire situation is devastating and disgusting, and I can’t seem to find my way out of it. I’m swimming blindly, searching for the surface of an endless, black sea. I’m drowning, one painful second at a time.
The silence of the room is interrupted by a clinking noise, and then the jiggling of the doorknob on my front door.
Everett.
The sound rings out once more before, suddenly, I hear his voice.
“Sky?” he shouts. “The key isn’t working.”
I do not move. I do not make a single sound. He’ll go away eventually, right?
“Sky?” he repeats. “Skylar! I know you’re home—I saw your car. What’s going on?”
There is more jiggling, more clanking, and then he’s knocking. “Hey, open up! What the hell is happening? Did you… Did you change the locks?”
I know I’m being horrible again. I know the mature thing to do is to open the door and have a civil conversation with him, but I can’t. If I see him now, I fear the tears will return. I’m scared I’ll beg him to leave her and come home to me.
Or worse, that little demon inside of me will rip him to shreds.
“Skylar! What the fuck, man! Open this door!” His voice is so loud, so angry, that I know the entire complex can hear him.
But I don’t care. In fact, in this moment, I care for very little. I just want to disappear. I want to return to the womb and start all over again.
Everett’s fist slams down onto the door one last time, so hard it rattles the frame. And then, oh so softly, he says, “Come on, puppy. Talk to me. Open up.”
Still, I do not move. I do not make a sound. I am a frozen lake, hiding from the bright sun—if I let him in now, I will evaporate into nothing but dry land.
Silence greets me again as Everett retreats, and my body relaxes into the torment of it. I return to the dreadful thoughts spinning around my brain and once again attempt to cry.
Nothing. I am an empty shell.
Or perhaps I am simply shedding my skin, ridding myself of the things that can hurt me. I’m protecting myself, the way all wounded animals do.
I cannot be faulted; I cannot be blamed.
And just as I’m becoming comfortable with this thought, this hope, that metallic sound resonates again, and the front door swings open.
I jump from the couch, the blanket falling to the floor just as Everett rounds the corner, panting in his anger.
“What the fuck, Sky?” he snaps.
“H-how did you—”
“I’ve been grabbing your packages from the front office for years now. You think they won’t give me the spare key if I say you lost yours?”
Fuck! Whatever happened to tenant privacy?!
I square my shoulders, trembling as I command, “Get out. I’ve changed the locks for a reason, haven’t I? Take a hint, Everett.”
“Take a hint?” he sneers. “Unbelievable! What has gotten into you? Why are you locking me out? Things were fine this morning. Wait… is this because you said you loved me a few weeks ago? I know we never really talked about it, but there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I liked—”
“Get out!” I scream, covering my ears with my hands. “Get out! I don’t want to talk about this!”
I’m crying again, just as I feared. I didn’t want him to see how this has affected me, and I will not be reminded of how desperately I love him. He has no right to speak on that now.
“I… I can’t. I don’t know how to deal with this,” I whisper.
“Deal with what?” he nearly pleads, taking a step closer. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me, pup. Let me fix this, alright? Let me help.”
But he can’t help when he’s the problem. And everything else… I’d rather he never hear of it. He can’t. I’d die. The piece of me that he has held dear all of these years will disintegrate, right before his eyes.
“Please,” I beg, “just go. I’m not in any state to try and—”
“Stop trying to get rid of me! I can’t just walk away from you. You’re mine, Skylar. And I’m yours.”
“Mine?” I parrot, my arms slowly lowering as I meet his eyes.
He’s teary-eyed, watching me in a panic. He takes another step toward me, cautiously. “Yes. Yours.”
“You’re not.” My voice is suddenly firm, and surprisingly, I portray no anger or sorrow as I speak. “You are not mine. If you were, you wouldn’t be out with somebody else.”
Everett freezes, his face going momentarily blank before all of the blood drains from it. He flinches.
“W-what?” he stutters.
“I saw you leave the restaurant with her. I saw you holding hands. And now you’re here, demanding I talk to you? No. I’m done.”
As the word done leaves my mouth, Everett’s back stiffens, and his left eye twitches. Some part of me is certain that he’ll agree and walk right out, while the other is certain that he will tackle me onto the couch.
“You are not done,” he demands. “You don’t even understand what you saw, so you can’t be done.”
“It’s not hard to interpret, Everett,” I counter. “You were on a date, and I saw it. There is nothing more to understand.”
“You’re wrong. There is so much more to understand.”
As he takes a step toward me, I step back, falling onto the couch as the blanket catches my feet.
“Stop,” I yelp.
“Actually,” he interjects, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I think it’ll take more than just me to explain.”
“What?”
But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he scrolls through his phone for a moment before pressing it to his ear. We are thrust into another tense silence, and I watch him wearily.
“Hey,” he suddenly says into the receiver. “I need your help. Can you drive to the apartments on Sunset Ave? Yeah… perfect, it’s unit 236. See you soon.”
Everett slides his phone back into his pocket.
I can feel my eyes narrowing, my heart speeding up. “Please tell me you did not invite that girl to my home.”
He shrugs. “You need to hear it from her, too.”
“No! I don’t! Fuck, Everett, just leave!” I’m damn near hyperventilating.
Everett drops to his knees before the couch, his hands falling to my knees even as I try to push him away. “Listen to me. You know me, alright? I would never hurt you. There is a very good explanation here.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” I cry. “I don’t want anything. Please, I’m so tired.”
The drowning is speeding up—very soon, I will be dead.
That woman is going to invade my space, stand next to Everett, and try to justify their affair. I can’t cope with that; I’m not ready.
“I know, baby,” he coos, rubbing at my skin. “I know it’s hard right now. Just give it a few minutes, alright? Even if you don’t forgive me, if you don’t believe me, just allow yourself these few minutes. Let me comfort you.”
… Could I do that? Would it be horribly wrong of me to soak him in, one last time? I don’t know anymore. I can’t differentiate between good and bad—I do not trust my own moral compass.
But I’ll be damned if I don’t need a bit of comfort; it seems I’m falling apart. So I tip forward, burying my wet face into the crook of his neck as he wraps me up in his arms.
I wish I could be angrier. I wish that little part of me would come out to play and take away this pathetic sadness. It’s making me weak and dependent.
“That’s it,” Everett murmurs, rubbing at my back. “I’ve got you. Just breathe.”
He’s got me. At least for now, I am safe here with him. I can allow him to live within my soul for a few moments longer—and if that makes me more horrible than I already am, then so be it.
A knock sounds at the front door, soft and hesitant, a few minutes later.
I jerk back from Everett’s hold, startled by the sound despite anticipating it. She’s here. She is in my home and prepared to dismantle the future I’ve been shaping since I was ten years old.
Everett stands, entering the hallway to let her inside. I can hear the sound of her light footsteps, their soft greetings, and the way my heart is splintering into a million pieces.
Moments later, she’s standing before me, appearing exactly as she did outside of that restaurant.
“Your boyfriend is Skylar Parish?!” Ashley screams, pointing a manicured finger my way with wide eyes.