Wonderland

❅H43❅ The Only Happy Memory

Chapter Forty-Three

Heather's POV

The Only Happy Memory

5 Days

As of eleven this morning, I was officially no longer a college student. It was hard to grasp at first, but I knew it was for the best. Immediately after withdrawing, I took a bus over to Lincoln Park, needing to cool off. Once there, I hiked down to the beach and sat myself down on a log a few feet from the shore. I gazed off solemnly into the distance and tried to clear my head.

It was chilly today, and the forecast predicted rain later on in the evening. Sighing, I reached into my bag and pulled out a notepad and pen. I placed the tip of my pen against the paper and wrote out, in elegant letters, Dear dad.

I paused for a moment, thinking about how to start it.

I hate you, I wrote.

I stared at those three simple words when I finished. I found myself shaking my head. That's too mean. I shouldn't do that. But you should, because he deserves to know, my inner voice urged. This is your last chance to let him know how you feel before you go.

I put the pen back down onto my paper, but found that I couldn't go through with it. A part of me couldn't believe I was writing a suicide letter right now. I never thought I'd go this early. I always thought I'd die of old age or something. It's funny what life can do to you.

I wish Brayden were here, I found myself thinking. I wanted him to hold me and tell me that everything would be all right. I felt a few tears slip from my eyes. Is this what depression does to you? I've never cried so much before. There was not a single trace of happiness in my bones.

Off in the distance, I heard a clap of thunder. A few minutes later, I felt droplets of rain pelting my hair and skin. I started to cry just as a downpour started. My entire notepad was soaked now, and so was my body. A part of me desperately wanted someone here with me right now. I'm tired of being alone. I want someone to care about me; I want someone to tell me how much he or she loves me, and how much he or she will miss me if I were to disappear and never come back.

I felt the notepad and pen slip from my hands, but I was too distraught to pick it up. As I was crying, I couldn't help but feel a slight tug of pain coming from the lower region of where I had surgery done. Fear tightened in my stomach when I thought about how it could be infected, but it dissipated when I remembered that I wouldn't be here long enough to know.

Sitting here, alone, I couldn't help but recall a memory from when I was a child. It took place on a beach, which probably explained why I was suddenly reminiscing it. It's probably the only memory I can recall from a time when my dad actually treated me like one of his own, and it was one I kept hidden deep within me, because recalling it would only make me upset.

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A business trip had us over in Oregon. He had left me alone in our hotel room while he went off to a meeting. I passed time by hosting imaginary tea parties with the two stuffed animals I had brought with me, and watching TV. When my dad came home, he had a big grin on his face.

"Promoted!" he said, enthusiastically, throwing his suitcase onto the ground and picking me up. He twirled me twice in his arms and set me down, and I giggled with joy, happy for him. "Let's celebrate, yeah?"

I nodded my head. One of the braids in my hair was becoming undone, thanks to my dad's lack of hair braiding skills, but I didn't care. I loved my dad tremendously. "How does the beach sound?" he asked, undoing his tie.

"Great," I answered.

"Good. I'm going to go change into some casual clothing. We'll leave in ten minutes, okay?"

I nodded to show that I understood. I sat down on the ground and waited patiently for him to get changed. I smoothed down the dress I was wearing, and fiddled with my tiny fingers. The dress was yellow, and stopped a little below my knees. A picture of Belle, from Beauty and the Beast, sat at the upper part of the dress. At the time, my favorite princess was Belle, and I had practically begged my father to get me the yellow casual dress I was wearing from the Disney store. As far as I can remember, that was probably the only time I ever threw a fit over something I really wanted, and the only time my father ever caved in.

Within an hour, my dad and I made it to the beach. I can't remember what beach it was, but I loved it. It wasn't your typical white-sand-and-blue-water beach: it was more desolate and rocky. Big boulders were scattered throughout it, some of them resembling small islands. The tidal waves were almost as tall as I was, but that didn't stop me from playing in the water with my dad.

We played hide-and-seek the entire time we were there, and when we were hungry, we ate quietly on a boulder my dad helped me climb. I was as happy as any seven-year-old girl could be, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

The Heather back then was content and innocent, a little girl who had the world at her fingertips. She was optimistic and loved being in the outdoors. She was a girl with big dreams. She loved being with her dad, and at the time, she thought her dad loved being with her, too.

But then life happened, and that picture perfect moment was gone forever.

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I stared blankly at the two cuts I produced from the broken shell in my hand. I didn't even flinch when I noticed how deep one of my cuts was; it was at least a few centimeters in, and was bleeding profusely.

I dropped the shell in my hand and wiped at my eyes, biting my lower lip. I felt a lot better now that I had gotten my release—so much better that I didn't even care if the blood was practically spurting from my arm, creating a pool on my pants and shirt.

The rain was still pouring as hard as ever, and the tides were growing with each passing hour, but I didn't care. I had no intention of leaving this place. It's not like I have anywhere else to be tomorrow...

Or ever.

Watching the blood trickle down my arm like a downhill stream, I sat there in the rain until I was too weak to do so.