I was so naïve about the world and about horrible people. Bad things didn’t happen to girls like me. I was constantly protected, had all the money in the world, all the things a girl could ever want, I had.
Besides my sister and without her, it was hard to appreciate what I had left.
And now, what do I have?
My life?
I scoff and shake my head, pressing it against the pillow. What fucking life? I don’t want this life. I want to die because I don’t feel like myself, and if I want to be honest, I haven’t felt like myself since Grace died.
“Heather? Please, talk to me.”
“I don’t want anything.” I don’t even sound like myself. My voice is unrecognizable, monotone, like a robot. I don’t take my eyes off the ocean, crashing along the cliffs with early morning ease.
“You have to eat and drink something. Please, Heather. I’m worried about you.”
Worry all you want. I don’t want anything to do with being helped.
“Heather—”
“Just leave me alone!” I scream at her, grab the pillow, then throw it at the door. “Go away.” My lip trembles when I feel another burst of emotion wanting to escape. “Just go,” I break, curling into a ball once more.
“Okay, I’m just going to set the food by the door, okay? I’ll leave you be and check in on you later. I know you don’t want to talk. Believe me, I know. I’ve been there, but if you ever want to talk, I’m here for you. I know you know that because we talked yesterday but don’t ever think I won’t get tired of hearing about what you have to say.”
We talked twice, and suddenly she thinks I want to always talk to her?
Okay, that isn’t fair. I know she’s trying to be nice, but I don’t want kindness. I want to be left alone.
I want to turn back time and pretend none of this happened. I want to go back to the day I got out of bed and decided to go visit Grace. It wasn’t even a day I should have went to her grave. I had already been that week, but I missed her so much that day, and now…
Now my parents will have to live without either of their kids.
“I don’t care. Unlock the door,” I hear someone say, which makes me jolt up in a panic. My heart starts to pound and race, making my blood pump with anxiety and the itch to run.
There is nowhere to go.
“You can’t just barge in there, Heaven. You have to respect her space.”
“Get the fuck out of my way, Sebastian. I know it’s her. Did you watch the news? It can’t be anyone else. It has to be her. Let me in!”
“No, get the fuck out of here. You have no idea what she has been through. She needs space, and when she is ready, she will come out—”
“No, I need to know she is okay. If she has been under our roof for the last few days and I didn’t even know…please. I know her, Sebastian. I know her.”
I don’t know anyone here! That man is crazy, even if his voice sounds like smooth velvet and a tad bit familiar.
“How do you know her?” asks the other man; I think his name is Sebastian.
“I don’t want to get into that with you. I need to know if it is her. I can help her get home if she wants. Please, let me see her.”
“No, I’m sorry, Heaven.”
I get out of bed for the first time in three days and creep toward the bedroom door instead of going to the restroom. My feet patter against the floor, the black wood cold to the touch and making me gasp for air. Every move I make, I feel the ache in my joints and muscles, but I do know his voice. I can’t remember where I have heard it.
I place my hands against the door and lean in, laying my ear against the wood to see if I can hear more of their conversation.
“Please, Sebastian,” the man begs again, and his voice breaks. “I haven’t seen her…” he stops speaking, getting choked up, which only confuses me. “I haven’t seen her in years. She hates me, but I need to tell her—”
I stumble back from the door when it hits me who it is.
That’s impossible.
Out of all the places for me to be, there is no way I am in the same house as Asher Haven. I hate him.
I loved him, but I hate him more.
Not thinking and letting the rage fuel me, I unlock the door and swing it open so fast my hair breezes over my shoulder. I’m staring at broad shoulders and a wide back. A man with dark hair is blocking the path to Asher.
I think it’s Asher.
No, I know.
The man, Sebastian, turns his head over his shoulder and stares at me wide-eyed. He’s surprised that I opened the door.
Yeah, me too.
He steps out of the way, and I’m bombarded with the past when Asher’s face comes to view. He got taller, broader, and if it were possible, better looking, and it makes me hate him more. His dirty blonde hair is kind of long, wavy like he brushes his fingers through it too much. He has stubble on his face, which is new because when he was seventeen, he barely had peach fuzz.
His beauty is holy, something that deserves to be praised, but someone so pleasing to the eye can only promise one thing: sin. And I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime.
Asher’s lip part, and when he sees me, he smiles in relief. “It’s you. Oh my god, Heather. It’s you. It’s really you.” He charges at me, arms out to pull me in a hug, but I lift my hand to stop him from coming any closer.
All I see is him covered in my sister’s blood.
I know he didn’t kill her. I thought he did, I tried to convince myself that he did for the longest time, but as evidence came forth, and his character came into play, I knew he didn’t. Asher Haven was a lot of things, but a woman beater and killer was not one of them.
I can’t speak for who he is now. For all I know, he kills women in his spare time, which is something I don’t believe, but I’m not feeling all too kind right now.
“Heather—” he says with a broken voice, staring at me with watery eyes as his cheeks redden. He rubs a hand over his mouth as he tries to pull himself together. “Heather, I…I am so sorry.”
I hold my palm in the air to stop his apologies. I don’t want them. I step forward, leaving enough space between us that I don’t feel bombard by his presence or melted by the strength he exudes. Asher always had that effect on me, and it’s why I kept my distance.
I knew him back then. I knew what he liked to do. He wasn’t the kind of man to settle down and have a girlfriend. He fucked who he wanted to and left all of them wanting more. And I know the kind of woman I am. I would have wanted more from him, more than he was able to give. So I turned my love into hate, and it’s something that’s been boiling over ever since.
Then my sister…
He went to prison for a crime he didn’t commit but never complained once. He took his punishment, served his time, and he got out.
One letter.
I wrote to him one time, and I never heard back.
My love would never be reciprocated, so it’s easy to hate him.
“Everything okay here?” Sebastian asks timidly.
I don’t know, to be honest. I want to slam the door in Asher’s face and crawl back into bed. I want to go back to feeling sorry for myself and scared of my own shadow. I want to move on too and figure out a way to live my life again. I want to hug Asher. I want to slap him.