After a tragic event drives her out of little Hillsborough, NC, 19-year-old Meghan Greene finds herself living in a Manhattan apartment with her best friend Chelsea Matthews. Officially enrolled in NYU and wanting to forget about her old life in her...
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Warning: this chapter will be intense and somewhat vivid, adult scenarios will be described and strong language will be used.
If things such as assault, sexual or domestic, are triggers for you please be aware that there is a part which covers it.
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Meghan
Anxiety (noun) - a feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome.
After being discharged from the hospital and a very silent taxi drive back to the apartment, Chelsea excused herself and fled. Her reasoning was that Savannah and the boys were worried about me and she needed to go tell them that I was okay.
Apparently, a simple text just wasn't enough to "calm their worried minds."
So now here I am, sitting on my bed with a blanket draped over my shoulders and patiently waiting for Sebastian to come back from the kitchen with some chicken soup.
My mind is racing, all of my thoughts are scattered and the headache that still hadn't subsided was only making my anxiety shoot through the roof and up into the never ending universe that much quicker. I was about to tell Sebastian everything.
Everything.
I've been sitting here wringing my hands together and trying to figure out ways to tell him without freaking him out.
But how do you tell someone the story behind why you're so fucked up? How do you just let such disturbing words fall from your lips, attempting to make them taste like honey when really they taste like death?
Because that's what made me this way.
Death.
It took the only boy I've ever loved. It gave me a kiss that lingered on my lips for only minutes before death himself wiped it off and pushed me into a world so dark that I wished he had taken me with him.
How do you tell someone that sometimes you wish death's kiss had pulled you under and never let you resurface?
I don't want to watch Sebastians view of me change when he realizes just how much left of me there really is. And I don't want him to try to find the pieces of me that were so long ago taken by the wind and scattered across the grave of a nineteen year old boy.
