Chapter [24]

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C h a p t e r T w e n t y F o u r


IN LIGHT OF THEIR ARGUMENT, Sawyer had been doing his best to avoid Hazel. He steered clear of everyone in general, not interested in engaging in a conversation with anyone; he was simply not in the mood-he was exhausted, emotionally spent, and sick of people trying to console him; it only made him more frustrated and angry.

After the fiery argument, his cousin, Kyle, had led him calmly past all the curious stares and stunned gazes he was receiving. He could hear the hazy murmurs of onlookers as they walked by, but he simply kept his head down, bittersweet memories blossoming within his mind, and let Kyle do all the talking and navigating.

It was only when he heard the mellow rush of the placid waves rolling onto the sand, and felt the tangy sting of saltiness in his nostrils did he finally look up, reality hitting him like the choppy sea breeze-in full-blown force. And it was this that caused all the walls around his emotions to collapse, brick by brick, into the sand. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes . . . and it wasn't from the pungent seaweed stench that stained the air-no, raw emotion was the trigger, and as reality of what had just happened continued to crash over him like waves, more emotion could be seen emerging physically.

Kyle watched Sawyer kicking the sand in frustration, watching as the sand rose and fell with each kick. He watched on as his cousin curled up into a ball in the sand and pummelled the tiny yellow grains with his fists. He watched the tears cascade down his face, watched the sobs wracking his body, watched as emotion slowly, but surely, overcame Sawyer; watched on as his emotions overpowered his mental and physical attempts to stay calm.

Finally, when it appeared that all emotion had drained out of Sawyer, Kyle made his move. He stood from his position in the sand and walked over to his cousin, his heart aching at the sight of Sawyer's shattered figure bent over in the sand in front of him-the desolate shell of the person he used to be.

Crouching down in the sand beside his cousin, Kyle placed a gentle hand on Sawyer's shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner. Sighing deeply, he gazed off into the distance, wondering how he was going to convey his thoughts as words. After a while, his gaze landed back on Sawyer and he said, "Look, I know you don't want me to say anything about what just happened, so I won't say anything."

Silence.

"Just know that you can't hide from Hazel forever-or anyone, for that matter. You can't keep ignoring her, Sawyer, because you're going to have to see her at some point; you're going to have to talk to her soon. The Sawyer I know would go back to Hazel and try to talk things over, not completely ignore her and anyone else who tries to talk with him. He wouldn't give up this easily; he wouldn't go down without a fair fight. I know that old Sawyer's in you somewhere-you've just got to go that extra mile, as much as it may hurt, and find him. He's in you somewhere, Sawyer, and I want you to find him because that's the Sawyer I know and love."

Kyle sighed heavily when there was no response from his cousin.

"That Sawyer isn't one who would give in without a fight like you did. That Sawyer wouldn't ignore help from other people. That Sawyer would try and make others see reason, and even if it didn't always work at least he'd try."

"What do you want, Kyle?" Sawyer asked, resigned, his eyes fixed on the sand.

"I'm just asking you to find that old Sawyer," Kyle said softly. "I know it's in you somewhere-you've just got to find it."

"Well you're wrong," Sawyer said harshly, looking up into the sky, despair and resentment and sorrow clouding his eyes. "That Sawyer's gone. This is who I am. This is me."

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