been chewed off by an animal, a large dog presumably. The place gives me the creeps, but I step out of the car anyway.
“Alma”—Amos hesitates beside the car—“are you sure about this?”
“Yeah.” My voice comes out steady, more confident than I feel.
Amos stands beside me as I knock. No one answers, and I knock again. Finally, the door handle turns, and the door is opened a crack.
I’m hit in the face with an awful stench—dirt, smoke, sweat, and rot—almost knocking me over.
“What do you want?” a woman with a gruff voice asks.
“Is Leo here?”
“Who’s asking?” the woman questions.
“His girlfriend, Alma. I just have to see him for a minute. Please.”
She doesn’t respond but opens the door wider and retreats back into the house. I shoot Amos a look, and the two of us step inside. I fight the urge to cover my nose with my shirt and step deeper into the dreary place.
The first thing I see when we enter the living room is a girl riding a man in the corner on a reclining chair. I gasp at the couple having sex right out in the open. The place is a pit. There are empty beer cans, wrappers, pipes, and drug paraphernalia everywhere. A half-dozen people sit on the dirty plaid couches around the room, clearly drugged out on something.
I scan the room, trying to take in what I’m seeing, and my chest aches when I see him. He’s sitting on a love seat to my right, wearing the same clothes I last saw him in. His cheeks seem sunken in, and purple bags are prominent under his dead eyes. He stares at me, assessing but lacking emotion. He’s a hollow shell of the man I know. The Leo I love is gone.
I cover my mouth as bile rises in my throat, and I gag, clenching my stomach. Amos grabs my arm and pulls me out of the house, shutting the house door when we step into the winter air. I fall to my knees, dry-heaving. My stomach is empty, so nothing comes up save for the acidic bile. Tears blur my vision.
I release a heart-wrenching scream. Amos lifts me from the ground, and I cry against his chest as he leads me to the car. My pain and heartbreak are the only sounds as Amos drives back to the dorm.
TWENTY-NINE
Leo
She was here. Alma, my soul. She was here. Beautiful and brave and gone. I didn’t try to stop her because she should go. She’s always been too pure, too good for someone like me. I was selfish in believing I could keep her.
I wanted to be better. For her, I did. For the briefest of moments, I thought that maybe I could. Yet I’ve never been brave, and I’ve never been strong. I’ve always been a coward, running.
The demons pull me down every chance they get, and I let them. I allow it because it’s easier to be lost to oblivion than drowning in pain. It’s easier to check out than fight. I know because I’ve been losing the battle my entire life. I’m exhausted, and I can’t do it anymore.
She’ll thank me someday. She’ll realize that because I love her, I had to let her go. She won’t see it yet, but she will. The greatest gift I can give her is a life without me.
THIRTY
Alma
I unplugged the lights of the Christmas tree, turned off the lights in the house, left my set of keys on the table, locked the door, and closed it tight. As I walked away with tears in my eyes, I promised myself that I’d never go back there.
Never.
I cried in my room for two weeks. Amos brought me food and held me most nights. He’s the only person I’d trust to see me in such a desperate state. He knows my soul in and out, as I know his. He’s all I have in this world—a fact that’s clearer now more than ever.
How can I trust love when the sentiment is thrown around so easily? Leo claimed to love me, but in the end, he didn’t. I gave him everything, and he left me broken and exposed. I hope I never love again. When I’m in it, it’s magical, but when it leaves, the agony is unbearable. I’d give up the past three months to not know what this pain feels like.
Classes started up again a month ago, and since then, I’ve gone through the motions. I get up. I go to