Page 136 of Darling Venom
I forced the tears to slow, folded the letter in thirds, and tucked it into its envelope, carefully sliding the cardstock into my hoodie pocket.
“I don’t know why you did it. You had me. You had Harvard. And even though you didn’t think it, you had Tate. Hell…” I wiped my face with the back of my hand. “I think, in a weird, fucked-up way, you even had Terry.”
I stared up at the sky.
Even if he thought he was Hell bound, I didn’t.
I believed a special place existed somewhere for people who were so tortured on Earth, they felt the only way out was to end it all. A place where they got to experience everything they missed out on in this plane. Love. Happiness. Relief.
“You’re a real asshole. You know that, Kellan?”
The wind picked up.
I placed a hand against the chimney to steady myself.
“I guess you do.”
I laughed, unsure what hurt worse—his presence in his absence or when he disappeared completely.
“I can’t believe I’ve been so scared to come to the roof. The happy memories are still here. I feel them.”
If I closed my eyes and cleared my mind of the past four years, I could almost see us up here again, stealing glances and laughing about some dumb thing one of us said.
“There’s something I’ve been wondering…”
I leaned against the column, enjoying the wind. Drunk off pain, I could almost convince myself it was Kellan.
“Why would you even apply to Harvard if you didn’t intend on going there?”
The wind slowed.
I waited for an answer, but none came.
After a while, the wind stopped lapping at my cheeks.
The level of my loneliness sank in. I didn’t have anyone to talk to about Kellan’s death. Anyone to yell at. Rage to. I didn’t even have the guts to visit Tate and vent my anger at him, his father, Hannah.
It was just… me.
That was the thing about loneliness. Once it entered, it didn’t leave.
“The loneliness is a prelude, isn’t it? A taste of the days to come.”
I still had a sister.
I still had a future.
And I lived in the most populous city in the country. If I couldn’t find a single friend out of the nine million people who lived in New York City, I had no one to blame but myself.
It’s not that you can’t. You don’t want to.
No one can compare.
“If she gave me the letter on time, if she hadn’t asked for those fucking cigarettes that night, would you still be alive?”
No answer.
“How can I forgive Leah?”
