The Suicide Effect | ✓

thirty-nine

Today I was a storm again: a storm of sorts where I hailed and lightninged and reinforced misery over everything. It was just one of those days where everything came crashing down in pieces - and not on me, on a place a million miles away where I could never find them however hard I tried.

I missed Becks.

Farlan was great - he was so strong and so kind and so patient but he wasn't her. No one could ever be Rebekah Wilde again.

I found myself wondering why she didn't consider the after-effects; why she didn't realise that she'd wreck my entire life. Or was it just that it was easy for her to wreck my life - that I wasn't worth preserving?

I guess so.

My mind has refused to think anything else these past thirty-nine days. It echoes the same thing over and over again like a broken record stuck scratching at the needle.

It's all your fault it's all your fault it's all your fault.