Addicted z.m

Chapter 25

I hadn't spoken to her since that day she walked away. I called. I texted. I waited for her outside of her classes. My existence was not acknowledged.

It had been four weeks. She meant it this time. It was hard being so close to her, knowing exactly where she was, and not being able to talk to her. We've never truly thrown ourselves in such a situation. I missed her. . .

I took a deep breath before raising my hand to knock on the door. The door flew open before my knuckles could touch the wood.

Tiffany stood in the doorway wide eyed. "Took you long enough!" she huffed, grabbing my wrist and pulling me in the dorm.

I stuffed my hands in my pockets, waiting for her explanation. "Why am I here?" I shrugged.

She flashed me a dirty look. "Spencer, of course!"

"Yeah, you mentioned that on the phone," I said, "but I don't see her here."

Tiffany pointed behind me. I turned to face the glass door leading to the small balcony. On the edge, with her feet dangling through the bars of the railing, sat Spencer wrapped in a blanket, her back facing us.

I shrugged. "What's wrong with her?"

"She did this last year," Tiff spoke softly, wrapping her arms around herself. "She just. . . shut down. She won't talk to anyone, she won't eat. She won't do anything."

"She did this last year?" I repeated.

She nodded. "She cried. . . Not audibly. Just silently to herself. I'd never seen her so vulnerable."

Not many things make Spencer cry. I've been known tug a few tears from her, but the only other possible thing that could make her so full of grief is-

"What's the date today?" I asked.

"January twenty-sixth," Tiff shrugged. "Why?"

"Oh no. . ." I ran a hand over my hair. "I'm so stupid!" How could I have forgotten?! I didn't forget last year. It ate me alive. I counted the days. Why wasn't it killing me now?

I walked away from Tiffany and opened the sliding glass door. I stepped out onto the terrace and closed the door behind me. My steps were quiet as I made my way to her side. I sat down next to her. She didn't budge.

She was staring out at the view: the brick walls of two more dorms and a heavily polluted parking lot. A tear had just fallen off of her red cheek.

"You'd think," she croaked, "I'd be used to this feeling by now." She wiped at her cheeks furiously. "I'm a mess," she tried to laugh. "It's been two years. I should have my shit together by now."

I disagreed. She had every right to shed a tear, or two, or a thousand. After two years, I'd be worried if she wasn't crying. But I didn't say this. I didn't speak a word. I'd never been around Spencer in this state for very long - a state of loss - but I was mostly sure she needed more room to speak than to be spoken to.

"He told me," she continued, "that day at the park on your birthday. . . he-" she took in a deep breath, her lip quivering. "He was scared for me. He was willing to take that bullet for me weeks before he even knew what was coming. . .before I even knew what the hell was going on. He knew something was wrong and he would've jumped in front of any bus that was coming my way."

I wish I knew what she was feeling. Yeah, I'd lost Marisole under almost the same circumstances. . . but had I lost Doniya? I can't even imagine the pain I'd be in.

"And the worst part is. . ." her voice barrier snapped, breaking her into sobs, "it all could've been avoided! I could've stopped this! It could've been me!"