Hopeless

XVIII

"Darkness approaches from outside. I feel no light inside me strong enough to resist it." - Christopher Pike.

One year. A little over two months ago.

I don't remember what I was doing, or who I was with. Probably with Anthony, probably trying to fall in love. It doesn't really matter, honestly.

A little over two months ago had been one year since Nova's death. And I had forgotten it.

As I sat on a random, uncomfortably hard rock at that cliff Nova used to love, I thought about how I hated myself for forgetting. She's not supposed to be forgotten. She doesn't deserve this. She meant more than everything to me and I couldn't believe that we got to spend so little time together.

It would never be enough though. I would always want a little more.

Nova brought me back to life. She gave meaning to my mornings, showed me there's more that matters than sitting around and feeling sorry for myself. And how did I repay her? I pretended to be in love with a guy I'd met only a month before the famous three words escaped my lips.

I hated myself for spending that day as if it was nothing; as if a part of me didn't die when she laid unconscious on the tile floor. I hated myself for not loving her harder even after she left. But mostly, I hated myself because I didn't hate myself the slightest.

The pain sat prominent, still, every time Nova crossed my mind. Memories played like sweet lullabies every night before I fell asleep. Waking up to a world without her almost made me want to take myself out of it. That's why I was content with forgetting her.

I wanted to have her stored in the back of my mind without reliving every emotion I felt that day whenever a thought of us together popped in my head. Was that so wrong? Was I a bad person for not wanting to hurt anymore?

The view in front of me sat still, though it felt as if my world was spinning.

'You can't know that.' I told her, pushing my body closer to my knees and rubbing my arms with my hands while rocking my body back and forth slightly, trying to get used to the cold temperature or warm myself up.

'Why not?' She asked. I rolled my eyes. How could she ask that? It is pretty obvious why it is not possible. Yet she seemed to be genuinely curious as to why I had said what I said.

'Because,' she came to sit next to me.

She was not wearing anything more than a black tank top, sweatpants and some ugly looking shoes with holes on the sides. I never understood how that woman never got cold.

', you haven't been everywhere in the world to say that this is your favorite place.' I said matter-of-factly but all she did was laugh.

'Come one, Zoe!' She lit a cigarette, the third one in the span of an hour, and looked at the view that unraveled before her. 'Don't take everything so seriously.' Her voice had changed tones. She sounded distant and cold. Her voice coming out in something below a whisper.

'Besides,' she took a big breath but let it out slowly, silently. ', look at where you are.' Nothing more than some ugly trees I saw.

All the pain I felt, all the suffering I did when Nova died I was reliving once again, one year and two months later. And all I could think about was her face; her sweet looking face with her small blue eyes that shone every time she saw me, every time we sat down and talked about the real stuff. All I could hear was her voice calling my name and asking for help; something I never gave her. And her laugh; it kept echoing in my head. A beautiful laugh that was heard every morning after taking care of her or trying to make her breakfast. She would laugh; she would laugh at my stupid attempts of cooking and I would get extremely upset about it but still, she laughed; whatever was going on inside her head and soul did not prevent her from laughing. Laughing like it was the last day her voice would be heard, laughing like everything in her life was perfect, laughing like she was alright. Then why? Why did she leave? Why did she have to give up on herself so easily? Why didn't she ask for help, my help? The thing is, Katerina, that Nova was constantly asking for help, I was just too blind to see it. Every party she went to, every day she missed from school to go do things that harmed her, every broken 'I am fine' she told me; all that was a cry for help and I will never forgive myself for not helping her, for not giving her everything she deserved.

That day, the day she died, would always be engraved in my brain vividly. It is difficult to see the life of the party, the light of your miserable life dead on the floor. It is like nothing else in the world, looking at your loved one unconscious, still, lifeless. All the times they have laughed, talked or even cried flash before you and you cannot believe they are gone. A person so lively, so vivid, a person that was your world, a huge part of your life now lies under piles of mud and you cannot do anything about it. And you want to. You beg and you beg for one more talk, one more hug, one more pat on the shoulder and one more time that they could tell you that everything will be okay. One more time and then they can go. One more hug. And then another one after that. One more kiss on the cheek and then you will be alright, you will be able to let go.

But that is not true. There could never be one more time and then nothing. You will always want more and 'more' will not be given to you. Because it cannot be. It is impossible. Yet that will not stop you from asking. And I have asked; I have asked for another chance to see her and talk to her and tell her I love her and hold her hand to make her believe that everything will be alright, she will get through it. I asked for one more smile, one more word to come out of her mouth just so I can hear her voice. Yet every time I asked, I kept getting interrupted by another voice telling me she is dead, she is dead, she cannot come back ever again. But I waited.

And waited some more.

I waited too long for my own good.

She didn't come back, obviously. She wasn't even listening, no one was and I felt alone. More alone than I would ever be. And yet the thought of her sweet presence, silently sitting next to me calmed my senses. The sound of her deep voice telling me to keep going, to move on and live life. The knowledge that she would want to see me happy and experiencing what she didn't get to; that all gave me the strength to get up and leave with a tear-stained face.

'I'm coming' I whispered in the phone to a worried Hannah as I walked to the car.

With the pain still sitting heavy in my chest and the tears still staining my face I decided to call Hannah and ask her if she could forgive me and let me drive to her house and watch movies.

'I will be there in a few minutes. Okay, bye.' She told me to be careful and I hung up. From all the times I felt as if I had reached rock bottom, that time was the one I felt like I could get up and move on.

Checking my phone and walking to the car I saw a few calls from an unknown number. I stayed still for a moment, trying to remember if I had seen this combination of digits before, but nothing came to my mind. Curiosity getting the best of me as always, I tapped the contact on my screen and pressed my phone on my ear. Three beeps I managed to hear and a familiar, distant voice saying my name before everything went black.

I felt my eyes aching from an intense head rush the moment I tried to open them. A strong, white light was placed strictly above my face, sharpening the pain in my head. I groaned and raised both of my hands to try and remove the light that was giving me a headache.

'Oh, I am sorry.' I heard a woman's voice approaching and then the disturbing light was finally shut off. 'I must have forgotten it open.' She seemed to be nice but I still wanted to roll my eyes at her observation of the light. I opened my eyes slowly and took in my surroundings; I seemed to be in some sort of hospital, actual hospital that time. The woman that fixed the light, who looked to be a nurse of some kind, was patting the heavy blanket covering half of my body and smiling at me sweetly. A few moments later, when she stopped fixing my pillows, she asked me the million dollar question, 'Would you like to see the people waiting for you?'

And then it all came down on me; what the hell happened? Why was I at the hospital? Who brought me here? Was I going to live? Alright, that last question was a bit overdramatic, but I was really shaken by the lack of information and memories I had. Then, standing by the door, I saw someone that made me forget all about what I was previously thinking.

'Dylan?'