Beautiful Lives

Chapter 22

Chapter 22 – Hands (Serena Ryder)

After Nate's car turned the corner, I let myself fall apart. My legs were trembling, so I sat down at the bottom of the driveway to catch my breath. I let my head rest on my knees, as I tried to control my tears, but once I'd started crying, I couldn't stop.

"Lexi?" the front door opened, and I heard footsteps pounding down the pavement as Ryder ran towards me

"Are you okay?" he said, kneeling beside me and grabbing my shoulder. "Lexi, talk to me,"

I couldn't say anything, so I curled into him and let the tears fall onto his shirt. There was no way to put this kind of pain into words.

"Come on," Ryder shifted and lifted me into his arms, carrying me into the house. Once we were inside, he dropped me onto the couch, and went into the kitchen to get the phone. Knowing he was probably about to call the hospital, I got up, and followed him.

"Don't call anyone," I said. "I'm not sick,"

"What happened?" Ryder lowered the phone, finally clueing in. "What did he do?"

"We're over," I looked up at my brother, and shrugged helplessly. "I couldn't hurt him anymore,"
"Aw Lex," Ryder shook his head. "You were probably the best thing that ever happened to him. You didn't hurt him,"

"It's not that simple," I said.

* * *

After a few minutes, I didn't know what else to say, so I went upstairs. About half an hour later, I heard my mother come home, but I didn't have the energy to explain it all again, so instead I stayed curled up in my bed, and turned the light off hoping to get some privacy before I inevitably would have to talk to my friends and tell them what had happened.

I wanted to sleep, but the second I shut my eyes, a torrent of thoughts started to whirl through my brain, and even though I tried to lay as still as I possibly could, I couldn't escape. My phone buzzed angrily from where I'd left it on my dresser, and even if it weren't the equivalent of climbing Mount Everest to get out of bed, I wouldn't have checked it. I didn't want to know if Nate was texting me for my forgiveness, and I didn't want to see what my friends were thinking about me. So instead, I leaned over and flipped on the radio on my alarm clock. A generic country singer warbled about his latest breakup, which typically wouldn't have bothered me, but given the circumstances, it was like a knife in my heart. I turned it off angrily, and rolled onto my side, bringing my legs up to my chest so I was curled into a fetal position. Someone knocked on my door, presumably my mom, but I was in no mood to deal with her, so I pretended not to hear her, until she finally gave up and left me alone.

* * *

I lay in bed for a few hours before I finally managed to fall asleep. The rest of the afternoon was a hazy blur, alternating between sleeping and waking, with so many confusing dreams that I couldn't make heads or tails of which world was the real one. I finally woke up for good around eight the next morning, feeling more drained than I had when I'd gone to bed. Just as I was about to burrow back under the covers, the door flew open, and my mother walked across the room, and loudly banged open my windows, pulling back the curtains to flood the room with light.

"Mom," I groaned, rolling onto my stomach and pressing my face into the pillow to block out the harsh sun. "Can you not?"

"What happened last night?" she asked, sitting down on the side of the bed, and running her fingers up and down my back. "Do you want to talk about it?"