Blair O'Connor was the life of every party-popular, fearless, and always the center of attention. But behind the perfect image was an abusive boyfriend who slowly stripped away the girl she used to be.
After finally breaking free, Blair transfers...
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August 5th Birthday.
I'd waited for this moment for what felt like a lifetime. I was 16 the last time I'd seen this book.It was the kind of thing I thought I'd never be able to open again, but here I was, sitting alone in my dad's room with it in my hands, my fingers trembling as I brushed over the cover. The baby blue memory book, its soft fabric worn and faded in some places, but still perfect. The black cursive 'my darling' on the front always made me smile whenever I'd thought about it.
Jesus.
I was actually doing this.
The party downstairs felt like a distant hum now, like a world I no longer belonged to. I'd moved upstairs, seeking silence, seeking something familiar to hold onto. My heart was racing. I had to know. Had to see what she had written, what she had thought in those last days before I was born.
I opened the drawer, feeling the cool metal on my fingers, then reached beneath my dad's old t-shirts and jeans. There it was. The book. My heart seemed to stop when I saw it. I'd always known where it was, hidden under the bed in his room, but I'd never had the courage to look at it. Until now.
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of what I was about to do.
The first page was a picture of my mam and dad. They were lying next to one another on the sofa, her massive bump in full view, the fabric of her old maternity clothes stretched tightly over it. My dad had his hand gently placed over the top of her stomach, both of them smiling up at the camera like they had all the time in the world. It was such a simple picture, yet it felt like everything. It was the moment before everything changed, before I came into the world and turned their lives upside down.
I pressed my hand to the picture, feeling the love radiating from it, like they were right here with me. My throat tightened. I wasn't crying, you are.
The page was decorated with little sparkly gems, and under the picture, it said "Your Story."
Jesus, mam. I thought I could almost hear her voice in my head as I ran my fingers over the words.
The next page was a picture of a pregnancy test, two pink lines bright and clear against the white background. The words beneath read: "December 10th, 1986. The day I found out I was pregnant, causing mammy a trip to the hospital! I was two months and a week pregnant, a week later I'd find out your Auntie Cath was pregnant!"
I smiled faintly. Eloise. She'd been born so close to me. Maybe that's why we always had this weird connection, always so close but different, like we understood something the others didn't.
I turned the pages, finding bump updates, shopping lists for baby clothes, names for baby shoes. Each page filled with tiny scribbles, little thoughts about things like whether she should get a pink or blue blanket. I could almost hear her voice, the way she would talk to my dad about the smallest of details.
