[Elena]
The sky was cloudy, the kind that promised rain and didn't care if you had somewhere to be. I shoved my last duffel bag into the trunk of my Honda and slammed it shut. The impact was louder than necessary, but that was the least of my worries. I stood there, my palms pressed into the metal, breathing hard. I hadn't been able to sleep last night, and so I felt a little exhausted. I stared back at the house I had called home a long time ago. It didn't feel that way anymore. Just staring at it made my heart ache. It was as though the house had taken something from me. Maybe it had. Maybe everything had.
My fingers trembled not only from the cold, although it was freezing outside, but from the tight knot forming in my chest. The one that always appeared whenever I thought about leaving. It wasn't just the fact that I was leaving town. But because I was leaving the version of myself who'd waited ten years for a moment like this. From the porch, my mother watched me with the kind of vacant, unblinking eyes that would make a statue jealous.
"You didn't have to wake up," I muttered, brushing my fingers through my damp curls and avoiding eye contact.
My mother, in that paper-thin robe that hung limp on her like it hadn't been bought in her size two years ago, replied, "I didn't."
I paused long enough for the words to sink in fully. Those words were strong enough to cause an ache in my chest.
I turned to face her, ignoring her comment; I didn't have a reply to that. I never did. "I packed some soup and side dishes in the fridge. Also, I put your meds in the basket on the dining table, so you don't forget. Please don't skip them again. And eat before you take them. They don't work on an empty stomach."
"You make it sound like I don't know how to survive," she retorted, a frown on her frail face.
"I make it sound like I care if you don't" The words stumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them.
I winced slightly as her eyebrows rose in surprise. That was a little too honest. My mother blinked once. No anger. Just… indifference. That was always the worst part. But I wasn't surprised; my feelings didn't matter to her.
Grief had taken over the 'great' Heather Walker, so much so that it was as though she'd died with my Dad that dreadful night. Nothing was ever the same; at first, it was a little forgetfulness, then gradually, she just stopped being there for me. She stopped noticing my birthdays, report cards, and the bruises I got from being bullied. I was eleven when I started learning how to cook from Aunt Harley, my mom's best friend, who took care of me until she moved up north.
I learned how to microwave my dinners, which were mostly pizza. By twelve, I figured out how to forge my mother's signature on field trip forms, which I went mainly to escape from her. By fourteen, I was so deprived of attention that I started to seek it elsewhere. By fifteen, I'd already had two boyfriends and had lost my virginity to the second one. From then on, there have been hook-ups and relationships that lasted for a month. Then, finally, I stopped trying to fix the silence between us. At eighteen, when she didn't show up for my graduation, I accepted the fact that the woman who had given birth to me had left this world, together with my dad.
Ten fucking years!
We weren't mother and daughter anymore. Just two women living in the same broken house. She stood by the window, barefoot and fraying, even though she was just forty-two. She didn't look at me. She never really did. Her gaze was fixed on the backyard, on something long gone—maybe my father's ghost or the life she let die with him.
I'd tried for years to bring her back. I screamed, begged, cried and did everything I could to make her at least…see me. I cleaned around her silence, but nothing worked. Nothing I did was ever enough. My dad had been her world. And so grief had consumed her so much that she'd never once thought of how I felt, losing my dad and mom at such a young age.
But still, I cared for her. I always thought of the past. When my Dad was there, when my mom was herself, when we were a happy family, I remembered all the fun trips we would go on. Now it was all just a memory, one I hold dear.
"I've hired a nurse to check up on you every day. We've already discussed everything. She'll be here any moment from now." I said, checking my watch for the time. I looked at her, studying her reaction to what I had just said. The frown on her face deepened, but she said nothing. I knew she wouldn't be happy about it, but again, she hadn't been happy these last ten years.
I didn't say goodbye as I left the house.
What would be the point?
I sat in my car and drove off without even a wave. Three houses down, a man stood at the side of the road, his arms stretched out to stop me. I recognised him immediately and hit the brakes, coming to a stop. Finn stood in front of his house, shirtless, his lean, muscled body in only grey sweats that clung low on his hips like they had a job to do, probably to show the beautiful dent in his pants. I stared at it shamelessly. He approached me, placing his head through the window.
"Were you just going to leave without a goodbye?" he said accusingly.
"I thought I did that last night," I smirked as I stepped out of the car. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pecked those enticing lips of his. He sighed, pulling me closer and deepening the kiss.
"You sure you wanna go there?" By there, he meant Westlake University, where I was transferring, where I was going to take my revenge.
"I'm sure," I said for the thousandth time, but I never seemed to get it into that head of his.
"You could stay, you know. Stay with the team here. Play with Coach McKenna."
"I can't do that, and you know why. Besides, there's nothing here for me." Finn and I have been friends since middle school. We'd moved back here, to where my dad grew up after he passed, and he was the only person close to my age to befriend me. He'd been with me during the dark times, the tantrums, the consistent heartbreak my mother gave me. I had been an angry child back then, and so I ranted to him so many times about my plans for revenge.
Our relationship has only been upgraded to that of friends with benefits for almost a year now. He'd been the one to make the first move, and I'd found it convenient. And even though I knew it would ruin our friendship one day, I still let it happen.
"I'm here, Lena. You could stay 'for' me?" He looked hurt by my words, but I didn't reply. I brought his lips back to mine. It was the only way to shut him up.
He pulled me in, deepening the kiss as though if he kissed hard enough, I'd stay.
"Come inside," he whispered against my lips. " I wanna fuck you one more time."
I should've said no. The journey was long, and I was travelling by car, but I didn't. Finn was good in bed, and I wouldn't deprive myself of a chance to be with him one more time.
Finn's room still smelled like sex. His room was still a mess, with bed sheets lying messily on the bed, and his clothes scattered on the ground where he had left them the night before. His guitar, which he'd played for me several times, still lay in the same corner.
He touched me like he wanted to memorise this moment. And I let him. Not because I loved him, oh no, but because lust was easy and love was messy. An example of that is what it did to my mom. She loved my dad so much, and I'm not saying it's a bad thing, but when he passed, there was nothing left of her.
When it was over, we just lay there. Naked and breathing heavily into the silence.
I had to leave.
"I have to go," I said abruptly, getting up to pick up my clothes.
He nodded but said nothing. After putting on my clothes, I turned to face him, giving him a faint smile.
He stared back, and I could see unshed tears in his eyes.
"I love you, Lena." He said suddenly, catching me off guard. I already knew about this, but I didn't think he had the guts to say it out loud, knowing very well that I didn't feel the same.
I blinked at him, not knowing what to say.
He laughed, a heartless one. "You don't have to say it back. I just wanted to say it out loud at least once. So you know how I feel."
What was I to say back?
"Mmm, okay"
"Is that it? Is that all you have to say?"
"You just said I didn't have to say anything." I stared at him incredulously. What the hell did he want from me?
"You never talk about how you feel, Lena," Finn said quietly. "You just…run away from any conversation that has to deal with emotions."
I rolled my eyes. " I don't have time for this."
"You're always like this. I just told you how I feel, and you don't care, do you? We've been friends for so long, but sometimes it feels like I barely know you."
I hated this— this confrontation or whatever this was.
"I'm leaving." I turned to walk out the door, but he pulled me to the side, pinning me to the wall.
"Let me go. What do you want from me?" I yelled at him. What the hell was he doing?
" Lena, please stay here with me. Forget about all your plans. Let the past be the past," he begged, but I only stared at me, stunned at the sudden tears in his eyes.
"I can't do that, Finn. I can't let the man who killed my father and destroyed my family get away with everything he did. I can't do that!"
"Lena…"
"No, listen to me. I've spent years training and preparing for this chance to enter Westlake. All that hard work was only fueled by the need for revenge, and so I'm not missing this opportunity. Nothing you say will change my mind, so please let me go!"
He finally loosened his hold on me, looking everywhere but at me. "Okay, I understand."
"Thanks for everything, Finn," I said awkwardly, trying to release the tension I felt. I turned his face to mine, giving him a small peck on the lips.
He looked away. "Goodbye, Lena."
I walked out of the house still processing what had just happened. What the hell just happened? I wasn't good with feelings or expressing myself.
I looked back at the house, his sad face printed on my mind. I was going to miss him. He'd been there for me in my darkest times. Even when I pushed him away, he was still there. But I'd only managed to hurt him.
I had to leave; I couldn't delay my plans any further.
I had to let the man who ruined my family pay.