My Girl

55 | the scars

I wipe my tears, sniffling as I sit beside Cal inside his car. He has rolled up the partition so that we can talk without having to worry about his driver and bodyguard, who are sitting at the front. We've decided that being here is safer, in case there are reporters around.

"So, you've heard it all from Gordon," I whisper, and Cal nods.

He has told me that he visited Gordon, that he figured out what happened from Gordon.

I shift my gaze from my lap to him, only to find that he's looking down too, the pain still evident in his eyes. I wonder if he's feeling the same thing. We've cried next to Jasmine's grave, unleashing our pain. But the pain is still here, in my heart, like a scar that will never heal.

No matter what, every time I see him, I will always be reminded of Jasmine, of how she died that day. The same thing goes to Cal. His scar must be even worse.

I don't know how we'll be able to get through this. Even though we've apologized to each other, it doesn't mean that all the pain is gone.

"I understand, Cal." My voice is hoarse as I drop my gaze to my lap again, holding my sweaty hands. "I understand why you hated me, why you were angry at me."

Life throws us obstacles along our journey, just like what God has thrown at me and Mom. No matter how hard life is, there will always be light at the end of the tunnel. But the case is different for Jasmine -- we will never be able to bring her back.

Cal has lost his sister forever because of me and my family. She will never come back.

"Amy," Cal rasps, turning his head toward me.

His calling makes me want to burst into tears again, because it causes the longing inside my heart to become even worse.

But how would I be able to look at him without feeling shattered? How would he be able to look at me the same way he used to do without being reminded of Jasmine's death?

I know that I'll never be able to bear this pain. I don't know about time. Can time heal and fix something so broken like this?

I don't want us to pull away from each other again, but then, would it hurt less to be together? It wouldn't, would it?

When I finally brace myself to meet his eyes again, I let out a shaky breath. "It hurts, doesn't it?" I whisper, staring into his glassy eyes. "Seeing me brings so much pain to you."

Cal doesn't answer, but he stares at me with a look so broken and desperate. I've inflicted so much pain and misery on the man I love, and it's killing me.

I need time. He needs it too. We've forgiven each other, but we have to figure out from the bottom of our hearts whether being together again is the best for us or not.

"I feel it too," I rasp. "I haven't forgiven myself." My lips tremble as a tear drops to my cheek. "I can't just forget Jasmine."

Cal shakes his head, but the lump in my throat says otherwise. Can we really be happy? With this guilt of sacrificing Jasmine haunting us?

I close my eyes and let more tears roll down my face. Then I stare at Cal again, brushing my fingers against his cheek. I lean closer and place a soft kiss on it, then turn for the door, feeling my heart break.

Cal abruptly catches my wrist that I turn around. His eyes water even more.

"Amy, please," he begs, his voice barely a whisper.

He doesn't want to let me go just as much as I don't want to leave, but we both know that it doesn't work like that. We indeed need time to think about ourselves. About Jasmine.

With little strength, I free my hand from his grip, open the door, and step out of the car. My legs are shaking as I keep pushing myself forward, trudging further from the car. The wind blows gently, as though it's trying to soothe my pain and wipe my tears.

Cal doesn't chase after me, leaving the door open, just like that. He's letting me go, but I can hear him sobbing when I walk away. And again, my heart bleeds.

A few days have passed since I met Amy in the graveyard. The night after our encounter, she texted me that she was going back to New York, but here I am, still in Florida.

Fortunately, Dean allows me to stay here longer despite our promotion agenda in New York, which has been canceled now. He might have thought that I might need a little bit more refreshment, since my next tour is approaching.

I've never thought that revisiting my hometown and facing my past, which I'd been trying so hard to avoid, would enlighten me and help me have a proper closure. It's slightly irritating that Lucas Klein was right even though he just blurted out that suggestion randomly at my birthday party. That man might be a psychic.

The car stops, and once I step out of it, I stare up at the building that holds so many memories, the building in which Jasmine and I lived for years. My old apartment.

A sigh leaves my lips. I've finally braced myself to visit this place again, the place that reminds me so much of my little sister. This is where we spent our time, making memories filled with laughter and cries.

This is where we survived each day of poverty together, holding on to each other.

And this is also the place where she suffered during her last moment in this world, waiting for me to come home.

The pain slices me again like a knife, but I enter the building nonetheless. I don't need to hide my identity, since most of the people here have already known me for years. I know that the person I have an appointment with is already waiting for me, so I continue my steps.