Between the Lives - By Jessica Shirvington Page 0,68
my one chance to actually live.
I sighed. ‘Ethan, don’t.’
‘Yes, then.’ It was his turn to sigh. ‘Won’t it be hard to leave everyone? Your family, Maddie, Capri? Don’t you want to be here for them – be a part of their futures?’
I sat up, not looking at him. ‘You didn’t put yourself on that list.’
He sat up quickly, grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me towards him. ‘Listen to me. This is not about me! This is a choice you have to make for you. It doesn’t matter how much I … It has to be about other things. Not me, Sabine. Not me.’
I recoiled, pulling myself out of his grasp. I was so shocked, I just sat there, frozen. So hurt. Impossibly embarrassed.
Finally, when neither one of us said anything, I stood up. ‘Sun will be up soon. You should take me back.’ I started walking towards the car so he wouldn’t see my face.
When we got back to my room I went straight to the bathroom to change for bed. I couldn’t believe I’d made such a fool of myself. There I was, sneaking out with Ethan every night, thinking maybe there was something between us, something more than I’d dared to even hope for … But there wasn’t. He didn’t want to be part of my world. Not me, he’d said. He didn’t even want to be a consideration.
I’d let myself get carried away.
I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, angry that I’d allowed myself to be derailed so badly. If I’d been more focused on what I should’ve been doing, maybe everything would have been sorted by now. Instead of focusing on Ethan, I should’ve been concentrating on my plan. I still had no idea how I was going to make everything work.
‘Especially since I’m stuck in this shithole!’ I cried to myself, leaning against the sink.
When I got back to my room, I was surprised to see Ethan still there, sitting in the chair, head in his hands.
I climbed silently into bed and rolled over, turning my back to him. ‘I’m tired, Ethan.’
‘Your graduation is coming up, isn’t it?’
I didn’t answer.
‘You said the other day, that after graduation everything would be better. You didn’t just mean you and Dex, did you? It’s all gearing up towards then, isn’t it? So how does it work – does this life end before or after graduation day in your other life?’
I took a deep breath, trying not to give away the fact that I was crying. ‘After,’ I admitted.
‘You’ve got it all worked out. You and Dex will be together, you’ll tie up any loose ends in this world and get your one life. All your dreams will come true.’ His words were heavy with accusation.
I couldn’t stand it anymore. ‘It’s the only dream I have! But thanks for understanding. I get it now, Ethan. I can see how little you think of me. How pathetic I must seem. I should’ve realised sooner and then I wouldn’t have …’
He was on his feet and by my bed. ‘Wouldn’t have what?’
I shook my head and buried my tear-streaked face in the pillow. ‘Just go, Ethan.’
The rest of the weekend passed by, each day dragging as I tried to develop the plan that would end all of this torment. But even in Wellesley I struggled to pull myself together, Ethan’s words playing over and over in my mind.
Not me.
To make matters worse, Ethan didn’t turn up to work on Saturday night – which felt like a slap in the face. And in Wellesley, things weren’t much better. I slept most of Saturday. After Shifting and hobbling to the bathroom, I’d caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and decided that, for today at least, sleep came first. I was shockingly gaunt with dark circles under my eyes. It had become impossible to keep track of the waking-versus-sleeping hours of my lives. Staying awake for the Shift every night and, more often than not, ending up with my head over the toilet was taking a visible toll. No wonder Miriam was so convinced the fruit diet was working.
The good thing was, my schooling days had officially ended on Friday, and if ever anyone deserved to have finished their school education, it was me. Now the only thing left was Monday’s graduation.
When I finally made my way downstairs, wearing a white maxi-skirt and simple black camisole, the