From the Life of Riley Black

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Ryland Black

My mother was waiting for me when I returned home. She'd been pacing. I instantly knew that she'd wanted to check up on me and found out I was gone. As much as I hated everyone in my family right now, I knew she must have been worried, and I'd kept her up.

She didn't speak to me when I opened the door and locked it behind me. I stood at the entrance and waited, however. I knew she had something to say.

She eventually sighed. "Ryland..." she sat down and buried her face in her hands. "You know how worried I was? I walk into your room and see your bed empty, and you're nowhere in the house. I was going to wait up until three before I headed out."

"Sorry."

"You're not sorry, Ryland. I've noticed you're distant. You're drifting away from me and everyone. I understand that after Riley's death – you're in shock. We all are. You don't know why she did it, but you have to think about us, too. You're not the only one grieving."

Do you really, mother?

"I said I'm sorry." She looked at me and sighed.

"I don't know what to do anymore, Ryland. Tell me what it is. Tell me everything. I can't watch you do this. It scares me so much." Her voice was desperate, pleading.

It was quiet for a long time after that. She didn't look at me, and I didn't look at her. I didn't like the pain that was radiating off her. I didn't like the state she was in, and I definitely didn't like that I felt guilty for being responsible for this. Not after the way she made Riley feel.

"I'm going to bed. You should get some sleep." I walked past her and entered the hallway that lead to my room. She didn't move and she didn't respond.

When I got to the room, the letters were all over my bed. I cursed under my breath. Of fucking course.

She saw. She saw everything.

Riley Black

Found under Riley Black's carpet:

I am no longer in the asylum. I can't tell you if I was brought home or if I escaped, because I don't remember. It's been a long time, and I am supposed to be cured of this madness that consumed me before. It's still here. I still live with the constant fear. They're there, screaming and torturing me.

They still accuse me of murder.

I visited a friend some time ago. I can't remember how long ago, and I can't remember her name. I apologized to her for the things I did when we were young. I told her I wish I could apologize to Noah for everything. I told her I missed him and she told me she missed him, too. We talked about how things were before everything. Before Noah took those pills, and before my episodes started.

I found from her that I had these things before. I had these moments where I would zone out and wouldn't come back until ten minutes later, and when she'd ask I wouldn't remember anything. She told me she thought it was weird, but it was no use questioning it. She said Noah noticed these things, too, but she didn't know if I ever told him what was wrong. I don't know, either.

I reached home about five minutes ago. It was only my mom and Ryland home. They both hugged me and kissed me on the cheek, but I could tell they were reluctant. I made a mental list immediately of who I was going to get closure from first. My mother seemed suitable, though she couldn't look me in the eye. I came straight here to write it down, and now I'm here.

I'm excited and scared to write to Noah again, because now that I've finally acknowledged the truth about his death, it won't be the same.

I'll find you again.

Dear Noah,

I know I haven't told you this before, but time is coming. It's almost time.

I miss you and I hate that I don't have anything to say to you now that I'm back. I imagined endless letters to you. But it's different now. I know for sure you're not even on this earth anymore. And that reality is clawing at my very being. You were everything.

There will be no more post office. The illusion I made of you is now gone.

I wish you would come back to me.

The 6th of September, 2013.

Found on Riley Black's desk:

I went to my mother. I went to my mother. I went to my mother.

I want to forget. But I can't forget.

She told me everything. She told me everything.

We made up.

I want to forget. I want to forget.

My head is silent. There are no voices.

I want to forget. I want to forget.

The memories are clashing. They're coming all at once. They're too much for me to carry. It's too much. I don't want this.

I want to forget.

I.

Want.

To.

Forget.