Worse for Love- Book #3 in the WF Series

Chapter 49: 4 Days

❀ Ivy's POV ❀

I've been in my room ever since...

He's dead. He said he had to be there soon, right? So the bomb must've gone off already.

He's gone.

The tears flood my eyes again, and he is the one person I would let hold me right now.

I hate how I let him in and he still left. I hate how I let myself be vulnerable with him. I hate how he left and gave up on his own life. I hate him because I know that what he did was something an extraordinarily, moral person like him would do, so I hate him for not being selfish.

And what I hate the most is that I don't hate him at all and can't force myself to either.

"Ivy." I hear my mom's voice at the door.

I can't speak.

I just sit on my bed, unable to move.

I'm in denial. I'm forcing myself to believe that this is just any other case. That he's going to be back even though he's not.

My mom decides to open the door anyway since I didn't have the energy to close it once he was...gone.

Instantly, she begins to panic when she sees my face.

"What the hell happened?" she shouts, rushing over to my side.

"He's gone," I hiccup into her shoulder immediately, losing my self-control to hold back my tears.

She wraps her arms around my body tightly, letting me cry for I don't even know how long. My heart feels like it's broken into a million pieces and no one but him being here or being alive could fix it.

I can't fucking do this again. First, my dad, now him-the one person I let myself trust. What the hell did I do for the world to make the shittiest things I could ever imagine happen to me? Why don't they teach this in school? Why don't they tell us that losing someone you care about is worse than not understanding a goddamn Algebra problem!?

"I'm so sorry, honey." My mom holds me tighter against her.

I can't do it again.

~~~~

Day 1:

I told my mom to give me a moment to myself.

After she left, I didn't move from my spot on the bed, staring at an area on the wall that I can't look away from. An area that my brain imagines his face. His smile. His body hovering over my bed when he was about to get underneath the sheets with me.

His body exploded.

I realize at that moment that there won't be any remains of him left after the bomb detonates.

When he came here, it was the final time I got to see his body or face.

The last time I got to see him.

Day 2:

I'm in the same spot.

I can't think.

I can't breathe.

I've taken one sip of water that my mother brought me.