Belief

7.3

Maddie's POV

It takes ten times longer to heal a heart than it does to break it. Trust, hope, happiness; all of mine is shattered to the core. All that remains is regret and mixed feelings that confuse the heart and slow the nearly impossible healing process.

My heart is very much broken.

"Did I do the right thing?" I ask Ashton in a whisper over the phone, wiping my tear-stained cheeks and hugging my knees. Week three and I am still coping, still regretting, still heartbroken and confused.

"Only you can answer that Madds," Ashton sighs. Our phone calls have been somber the past few weeks, or rather I have just been somber.

I bite my lip, my mind racing with the usual questions; did I make a mistake? Was it worth it? The questions that wash away any attempt at me healing. "How is he?"

"He is- well listen," Ashton takes a deep breath, "you need to stop worrying about other people and for once worry about your own happiness. These past few years you've been worrying about keeping your parents happy, about me being happy, about keeping Luke happy. Now it is time for you to make yourself happy. Okay?"

"I mean, I guess, but-"

"No buts," he cuts me off, "you are about to graduate, to go to college, to start your own life. Don't let anyone distract you from caring about yourself right now. Its time you let yourself be."

I lay down on my bed, clutching my phone against my ear and sighing, "thanks Ash."

"I'm sorry I can't be there for you," he mumbles.

"Don't apologize," I order him. "I just wish I could have a hug." I close my eyes, hugging my sides and trying to picture a comforting hug but my mind becomes blurred with images of Luke. I force my eyes open. "It's just hard," my voice breaks.

"I hate hearing you in so much pain," Ashton mutters. "I miss you. I wish I could be there for you."

"You are there for me," I promise him, "just from afar."

"Everything will get better, I promise," Ash whispers over the line. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Thanks Ash," I hold the phone against my ear until the line goes silent.

Pushing myself out of bed, I slug into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water and slumping onto the couch.

"When is the last time you ate something?" Charlie glares at me from the other couch.

"I dunno, yesterday?" I mutter. I haven't had an appetite.

"This is getting ridiculous, it has almost been a month Maddie."

I just glare at her. "What the hell do you suggest I do then?"

"Woah calm down now," Charlie raises her hands in surrender. "First let's start by clearing out your room. I don't know how you expect to get over him when his face is staring at you in a hundred different pictures."

"I don't think I'm ready for that-"

"Do you want to keep feeling like shit or do you want to move on?" Charlie cuts me off. I stay silent. She pulls me off of the couch and grabs one of the empty boxes I have been saving to start packing for college. "I'm not saying to throw it out, just put it away."

"I can do that," I mutter more to myself than to her. She starts taking down my wall of pictures while I sort through the rest of my room.

The pick he used when he played me the song he wrote outside of my window, our tickets to Disneyland, his sweatshirt, our plane tickets to Australia, his sweatpants, the locket he got me for Christmas, the flash drive with the studio version of the song Everything I Want he wrote me. The pictures, too many pictures, walks in London, late nights on the beach, when he snuck me out of school for our six month anniversary, me and Liz cooking, his burnt birthday dinner I made him, backstage at their first show, too many memories. As I searched the back of my closet, pulling out the Minnie ears, the scribbled letters, that was when I found the shirt.