Ice and asphalt [Charles Leclerc]

65

The house feels so quiet, almost empty, now that Christmas is over. Everyone has left, and I'm here, stuck in the same place I've been for days, weeks. The weight of everything is just too much.

Angelina heads back to Bergamo, and I can't even find the energy to say goodbye. She gave me a long, lingering hug before she left, but it felt like I wasn't really there, like I was just a ghost watching her walk away. My mom's been trying, always checking in on me, bringing me tea and breakfast, but I can't bring myself to touch any of it.

All my brothers and their girlfriends have gone, one by one. They've all come to say goodbye, but my words are shallow. It's all I can do to whisper a weak "goodbye" before they disappear through the door. They're all out there, living their lives, while I'm here, still stuck in the dark place I can't seem to escape.

Lorenzo, Charlotte, Arthur, Carla, and Pascale all leave, too. Arthur kisses my head, telling me it'll get better, but I don't believe him. Nothing ever gets better, not for me. I'm broken, a mess of pieces that don't fit together anymore.

And then, the last one to leave is Charles. He's standing at the foot of my bed, his eyes tired, the lines of worry etched on his face. I can feel the tension in the air, the unsaid words between us.

"I don't want to leave you," he says softly, his voice full of concern, but it's that same damn concern that I can't handle right now.

I don't answer him. I can't.

"Not like this," he adds, and his voice cracks just a little, like he's trying to hold it together for me.

I can't stand it. I don't want his pity. I don't want his concern. I don't want anything.

"This is what I am," I say coldly, my voice flat. It feels like there's nothing left inside me, just a hollow shell.

"Go to London, Charles," I add, my words heavy with bitterness. "Get your perfect girlfriend back, so you never have to deal with this shit."

I know I'm pushing him away. I know I'm trying to scare him off, make him hate me so that he can leave without feeling guilty. I want him to walk away, because it's better for both of us. I'm too broken for him. I always have been.

But his next words hit me like a slap to the face.

"I'm not going anywhere, Louise."

His voice is firm, determined. But I can't bring myself to believe him. I don't want to believe him.

He steps closer, and I can feel the heat of his presence, but I can't look at him. I can't face the softness in his eyes, the love I know he has for me, the same love I feel in my chest, but can't accept. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve him.

"You don't have to do this alone," he says, his voice low, full of sincerity.

I want to argue. I want to push him away, tell him he's wasting his time, tell him that I'm too much for him. But I can't find the strength. Instead, I just close my eyes, as if shutting him out will make everything go away.

But it doesn't. Nothing goes away.

I can hear him sigh, and then I feel him sit down beside me on the bed. He doesn't say anything else. He just stays, quietly, like he's waiting for me to say something, anything. But I don't.

In the silence, I wonder if he really will stay. I wonder if he'll still love me when the darkness finally swallows me whole. And I wonder if I even want him to stay.

I wish I could just disappear, slip into the shadows and let the pain consume me. But I don't, because I know that no matter how much I push him away, he won't leave. Not yet.