Chapter 11
Calla
I didn’t leave my apartment yesterday. I’m not sure why—I just couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed.
The lightness of Driftwood mornings feels tainted now, like Haiyden’s darkness has seeped into the cracks of everything I once found comforting.
Haiyden.
I whisper his name, tasting it like something forbidden. Each time, it sinks deeper into me, leaving an ache that feels both familiar and new, like it’s been waiting to resurface all along.
His darkness has a way of clinging to things, slipping into quiet moments and making them feel suffocating. Maybe that’s why everything feels this way again. Why it’s suddenly harder to breathe.
I just don’t recognize this life anymore.
I stand in the middle of my living room, taking in the mess around me.
Tangled blankets spill across the couch from sleepless nights I barely remember.
Dirty dishes sit abandoned in the sink, long past the point of soaking.
Empty wine glasses litter the coffee table, sticky crimson stains pooling at the bottom like ghosts of indulgences I’d rather forget.
The loneliness creeps in again, and it burns, just like it always does.
Every year, the same thing happens. The “Christmas Blues,” my family used to call them. They’d laugh it off, blaming the post-holiday letdown—the expectation, the hype, the excitement—all of it snuffed out the moment the last family member walked out the door.
Like flipping a switch.
Happy to sad.
Light to dark.
But it feels different now. Something potent, more invasive. Something that wraps itself around my days and nights like a thick, choking fog.
I feel it in the way my chest aches with every uneven beat of my heart, as if it’s fighting to keep me alive.
In the way I drag a brush through my hair, untangling knots I don’t remember making.
In the staleness of the air. The sour tang of old wine and yesterday’s pasta still sitting on the counter.
Things are getting bad again, and it hurts.
Everything hurts.
Stepping into the bathroom, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My reflection feels foreign—pale skin, tired eyes rimmed with shadows. Nearly a full day of sleep should’ve left me rested, but I still look completely drained.
My feet drag as I approach the shower. It’s all too much.
I close my eyes, reaching for anything that might pull me out of this. I think of Maple’s. Of Driftwood. I picture the few bright spots in my life. The people who matter. The ones who make me feel like I’m worth it.
Maggie and Chase. That’s two.
Four, if you count Maple and Clover.
With a shaky breath, I turn the knob and the water sputters to life. The sound echoes in the small space, but I can’t bring myself to move. I rub my hands over my face, trying to scrub away the haze that clings to me. And slowly, I tie my hair into a messy knot, pull the curtain aside, and step in.
I used to sing in the shower. Loudly. Off-key. Jules would bang on the wall, yelling at me to shut up, and I’d just sing louder.
I’m not sure I know how to hum anymore.
The water is warm, but it does nothing to ease the cold embedded deep inside me. I stand there, staring blankly at the spray, too numb to move.
Then my knees give out, and I sink to the cold porcelain of the tub. The spray barely reaches me, but I can’t bring myself to adjust it.
The tears come next, slow at first, pooling in my eyes before spilling over. I don’t even know how I have any left to cry, but I let them fall. My head throbs with every shaky breath, but I don’t fight it. I just let the ache spill out in waves.
When the cold tile against my back becomes unbearable, I shift forward, sliding further into the spray. The warmth crawls up my arms, then to my chest, easing the worst of the trembling.
Once I’m almost completely under, I reach up and unravel the knot in my hair. The strands fall heavy around my face, water streaming through them as I tilt forward, letting the spray engulf me.
The sound of the water muffles my shallow breathing, and I drop my head to my knees, letting the world blur around me.
I don’t know how long I sit there, but by the time I lift my head, I know the water should be cold by now.
I raise a hand to shield my face from the spray and push myself up using the sides of the tub. My legs wobble beneath me, aching like every step takes more from me than the one before.
I shut off the water, and the emptiness rings in my ears. It’s colder now—my wet skin a contrast to the warmth that was there a moment ago.
Slowly, I step out of the shower and reach for a towel. I wrap it around myself without much care. The fabric bunches awkwardly, but I don’t have the energy to fix it.
It’s enough. For now.
My movements are sluggish as I leave the bathroom, and when I reach the edge of the bed, I sink into it. I sit there for a moment, gathering what little strength I have left.
Make a plan, Calla.
Don’t sink.
Driftwood calls to me, a familiar comfort I usually crave. But the thought of seeing Haiyden paralyzes me. I’m not sure I can face him today. I don’t think I have the strength.
But Maple’s…
A hot coffee and a few wagging tails might be just what I need.
I rub my hair with the towel, the rough fabric scraping against damp strands, then twist it into a knot on top of my head. It feels like the smallest victory—just a piece of routine in the chaos.
Slowly, I pull on my clothes, the fabric clinging to my skin like it’s trying to remind me that I’m still here. Still moving .
Underwear. Sock. Sock. Pants. Bra. Sweatshirt.
A look, really.
When I finish, I take a deep breath, letting some of the weight lift off my shoulders.
The hardest part is done.
I let the towel fall carelessly from my head and run my fingers through my damp, tangled hair. It’s a lazy attempt at control, but all I manage to find are three distinct sections.
With a sigh, I twist them into a haphazard braid, the end draping over my shoulder. Water drips from the strands, cold spots blooming across the fabric.
I step into the kitchen and pause when my eyes land on the car keys. Such a small thing, yet the thought of picking them up feels impossible.
Still, I reach for them, slip on a pair of shoes, and force my body into motion.