because it was too far from our neighborhood, and they didn’t know the parents. I wanted to go. I wanted to have fun with all my other friends. But they refused, and I was so, so angry. We were in the car, and we were arguing. Then I said… I hate you.”
The memories were vivid in my head, as if it were just yesterday. I could almost hear my parents’ voices, and if I closed my eyes, I could see them.
I looked away and blinked away the burning sensation in my eyes, but the tears didn’t stop. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t. I just said it because I was angry, but I didn’t mean it, Maddox. I… didn’t. Those were the last words I said to my parents. That is my deepest regret,” I broke off, letting out a pained whimper. I choked on my shame. “It… hurts because I will never get to tell my parents how much I love them. I will never feel my mother’s arms or my dad’s warm hugs again. My mom will never sing me happy birthday in her silly voice, and my dad will never tickle me because he loved to hear me laugh. He said my laughs sounded like a chipmunk.”
I ducked my head, hiding behind the curtain of my hair. “Sometimes, I forget what it is to feel okay, to feel normal because I’m filled with… so many unspoken emotions.”
Maddox was silent, and I wondered what he was thinking about. Did he pity me? Could he feel my shame? I didn’t want to be pitied, though… for the first time since my parents died, I just wanted to be held.
I’d been pushing the people who cared about me away: my grandparents and Riley. They tried, but I always shut them down because I hated being pitied, I hated the sympathetic look on their faces. When Gran suggested therapy, I refused to see any shrink. Talking about my feelings to a stranger? Letting them see me at my weakest? No way.
Realization dawned on me, and I choked back a sob. By pushing them away, I was causing myself more pain. I needed someone to talk to.
I needed to be held.
I needed to cry and have someone tell me it was going to be okay.
Sniffling back a cry, I dabbed my tears away. Maddox was here, and it was ironic because of how much I despised him when we first met.
“Do you know why I hated you so much before?”
He let out a dry laugh, without any humor. “Because I was an asshole?”
If only he knew the truth…
Maybe it was time.
I took a deep breath and let it out. “No, I despised you, hated the mere idea of you, because you reminded me of my parents’ murderer.”
His head snapped up, and I could almost hear his heart beat rattling through his chest.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
There was a moment of silence, his lips parting as if to speak, but he couldn’t say a word. His eyes bore into me, searching, and I saw matching pain in his. My words hung heavily between us, and we both bled from the invisible gunshot, a festering open wound.
I swallowed past the heavy lump in my throat, my whole body shaking with tremors. “We wouldn’t have gotten into an accident if we hadn’t been hit by a drunk driver that night.”
Four years had gone by, and I was still haunted by the memory.
“He was seventeen and very drunk, way above the limit, especially for someone underage. The road was slightly icy, so he lost control of his vehicle. Our cars were travelling the opposite direction, and he hit us from the front. I still remember the bright headlights flashing in front of me as his car crashed into ours.”
“He–”
“He should have been jailed for a long time. He should have been punished, right? Maddox, right?”
He nodded, his eyes red. Don’t give me such a tortured look, Maddox. My heart is already breaking.
“He didn’t,” I said, hugging myself tighter. “He didn’t even spend a night in a cell; he wasn’t punished, and he walked away from the accident, unscathed. Do you know why?”
“Why?” Maddox whispered, but he already knew the answer.
“He was the rich and spoiled son of a wealthy and influential attorney who had the whole world at his feet. His dad swept the accident under the rug and was able to get his son out of trouble. I was in a coma for a few weeks, and when I