Page 104 of Every Shattered Note
Aly:I won’t stop writing.Talk tomorrow.
Three seconds later,her status goes gray.
Logged off.
The screen dims as if it’s mourning something, and I just sit there.Eyes stinging.Mouth dry.
She didn’t sayI forgive you.
She didn’t sayI hate you,either.
She said enough.
What if I’m carrying some guilt that doesn’t exist?I’m always thinking that I have to overcorrect everything I’ve done wrong.Maybe I should go back to a therapist.Eddie is right.Fuck, I hate when he’s right.
My hand shakes as I reach for the notebook.Prometheus.Gasoline.Her name.It’s already inked between the lines I can’t finish, tangled into the chorus like a prayer I never learned to say right.Part of me wants to keep shaping it, smoothing the edges until it becomes something safe.Something radio-friendly.
But that would mean cutting her out of it.
And I’m not doing that.
Not this time.
I tear the page out.Fold it in thirds.Press the crease down until the paper feels worn from my hands alone.Then I walk it over and tuck it into the guitar case beside Lolita.The wood is still faintly humming from earlier, like the song hasn’t fully left her yet.Maybe if I leave the words close to her, they won’t disappear like everything else I try to hold onto.
I close the lid slowly.
A knock startles me—three hard raps against the door, too clipped to be casual.Too familiar to be anyone else.
Eddie.
His voice comes through the wood, rough and annoyed.“You alive in there?”
“I’m fine,” I call out.
It’s a lie, and we both know it.I sound like sandpaper and regret.At least, I hadn’t done anything I will regret tomorrow.Going to a meeting twice a day has helped.
“You miss that meeting with legal, and I swear to God I’ll start charging you by the hour just to babysit your reputation.”
I stare at the blank computer screen.“Didn’t realize I had a reputation left to save.”
“You don’t,” he fires back.“But we’re gonna fix that tomorrow.Today, you’re coming to my place.I’m giving you one night to breathe and not completely self-destruct.I’ll be in the car.Pack whatever shit you need—including a goddamn suit.Don’t make me come in.”
The door clicks again.His footsteps fade.
Silence drapes over the apartment.I don’t move.
The air inside the room feels off-kilter, like it’s been holding too many conversations I never had.The kind of silence that waits for you to crack before it speaks.
The guitar hums softly behind me, her strings still catching the vibrations in the room like she refuses to let go of the last note.And I get it.
Because neither can I.
ChapterForty-Three
EchoZone – Private Message Thread
March 2nd,2001 1:32 PM
