me he had overdosed on pain medication. My dad was someone who rarely even took ibuprofen, so I don’t really know what to do with that information. I’ve been thinking about it nonstop since I lost him, and the story I’ve been told just doesn’t sit well with me. There’s something fishy about it; I’m not buying it. I don’t know, in my gut I know that it’s not something he would do. I know I’ve been overthinking it, but I just can’t seem to let it go.
I haven’t left my house once in all this time, and I keep ignoring anyone who tries to talk to me. I already saw everyone at the funeral, which was all a blur. My uncle planned the whole thing, asking for my input and making sure to include me, but I wasn’t really present. The only thing I can remember is excruciating pain and different faces with sympathy in their eyes.
After the funeral, I locked myself in my apartment, and everyone else out. I’m just not ready to face people again, and I want to be left alone. I’ve probably lost my job, but right now I don’t care.
Anything that mattered to me before means nothing to me right now.
My heart is broken, and with the way I’m feeling I don’t think it’s something I’m ever going to recover from. I always thought nothing could break me, but now I know that’s not the truth.
I’m a different person from who I was a week ago, and nobody knows me anymore.
Sitting up when I hear the scrape of my window frame being forced open, I get out of bed in a rush. My eyes widen as I stare at Crow sliding into my now-open living room window.
Is he kidding me right now?
“Did you just break into my house?” I ask, frowning. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
As I look at him, I suddenly remember him being at my side at the funeral, talking to me and holding my hand. I don’t think I said much, but now that I see him in front of me, I knew he was there.
“No one has seen or heard from you, and we’re all worried,” he says, taking a step closer to me. He rakes his gaze over me, as if making sure I’m okay. “You can’t just shut us all out, Bronte.”
“I just want to be alone,” I say, sighing, tears filling my eyes.
“When’s the last time you ate? Or showered?” he asks gently. “I know you want to be alone, but maybe what you need is someone to take care of you right now.”
He comes over and wraps his arms around me. Kissing me on the top of my head, he whispers, “You will get through this. I’m so sorry, Bronte, and I know nothing will take the pain away, but don’t push the people who care about you away, okay?”
I melt into him, allowing myself to be weak, allowing the tears to drop and my body to tremble. He lifts me up and carries me to the bathroom, like a child, and fills up the bath. I hang on to him, like he can fix this, when I know he can’t. No one can. But he’s trying, and that’s more than I can do for myself right now.
When the bath is warm, he helps me undress and places me in the water. He doesn’t look at me in that way, and I appreciate that. He leaves me alone in the bath and heads out. I stay in until the water is about to turn cold, then get out, brush my teeth and my hair, and make myself feel human again. After putting on my silk robe and wrapping it around me, I step into the kitchen to find Crow making some coffee.
“I was going to cook you something, but you don’t have much to work with, so I ordered some Chinese food in,” he says, sliding me over the mug. “How are you feeling?”
“A little better,” I say. Physically, at least. “What would you have done if my apartment wasn’t on the ground floor?”
“I got lucky.” He grins, flashing his teeth. “Come on, let’s go sit down.”
We cuddle up on the couch, and I drink the coffee in silence. Crow lets me, and just strokes my hair and my shoulders, sending goose bumps over my skin. “Abbie is worried sick about you, and so is her dad.”
“I just can’t deal with it right now,”