Page 154 of Undone

“I don’t know. I just got so tired. And I couldn’t sleep. I was so exhausted I wanted to cry, but I just lay there every single night, and I couldn’t get my body to fall asleep. Nothing I did helped, and that low feeling—” I bite down on my lip. “My, uh, depression . . . it just got worse. I was sure it was from lack of s-sleep.”

Tears sting my eyes and I try to dart my chin away, but Toren keeps a steadying hold, whispering quietly, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I just wanted to get some sleep. It had been days since I’d had more than a few minutes of a nap. I didn’t mean— I was just so tired and alone.”

“Hey,” he coos, pulling my head down against his chest, making sure it’s my right ear that makes contact with his skin so I can hear him. “You’re not alone. You’re not. It’s okay to be tired—god, Lil—”

Toren’s voice cuts off, a deep, heaving breath moving me against his chest. Almost like a stilted sob.

“I’m so sorry you felt alone.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head. My temple. Then he lifts my wrist to his mouth and presses one there as I rise to meet his golden gaze. “You were never alone, you know? I didn’t— I never would have left your side.”

I shake my head. “This isn’t about that. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, but the smile he lets out is tinged with bitterness and regret.

“I’m serious. It’s not . . . when you . . .” I pause, biting on my lip at how to explain. “After that night, I was sad. My heart hurt. I didn’t do much except wait in my room, hoping you’d change your mind and come back.

“And maybe there was a part of me that blamed you for it, at first. But . . . that’s not— You know me. You know I’ve felt like this before.”

Just a bad day, I’d say, on the days where things felt the worst. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Sometimes it made me hate myself. Then things would get better for a day, and I’d convince myself I was a liar for even thinking I felt bad.

That I was just being lazy and wanted an excuse for it.

When it got worse, and my dad had to step in, it didn’t help that he told me exactly what I already thought.

Lazy. Selfish.

It was easy then, to really think something was wrong with me. To follow his direction when I realized I must have none of my own.

“But it wasn’t about you. Sometimes things feel really good now. I have a good day with Paloma and Holden and you. I might even fail my test and still feel good. And then . . . sometimes it just doesn’t feel like that.”

“What does that feel like?”

“Just heavy,” I say. “Like physically heavy. Hard to carry. Colors feel dim so it’s hard to paint. Food doesn’t taste the same, or listening to music doesn’t make me feel happy anymore.” I shrug. “Like . . . just imagine every single thing you want or need to do—you just don’t want to. Almost like you don’t even care to ever move again.”

Toren kisses my shoulder again, his eyes wet as he nods and keeps his nose pressed to my skin.

“Do you think my mom felt like this? That this is why she—”

“Maybe,” he offers quietly. “But your mom didn’t get the help she needed, okay? It wasn’t about you—just like how you feel isn’t about me, right? It’s okay. And you’re not alone.” Another kiss. “I’m here. Holden is here. Paloma is here. We love you. We’re going to help, always. You’re not alone.”

I’m not alone.

It’s not a cure. It’s not some magical moment where I blink and everything around me is brighter and happier and music plays. But it’s a start.

The most hopeful one I’ve had in a long time.

Chapter 59

Lily

“Did you have a good night?”

Ro is the one who asked the question. It’s the night of the Frozen Four game, and we’re all at the Hockey House again, which I’ve been to before, the night of the party. Ro is very kind, gentle in her demeanor.

“She’s asking if you got railed by Kane last night,” Sadie says through a mouthful of food, chips from a bag she’s holding as she sinks into the bed where Paloma is playing on her phone. I can see them in the mirror where Ro is doing my hair—half-up, half-down double braids she called them. She even put little blue gingham bows in the bottom fasteners.

“I am not,” Ro says, her face blushing.