Rehab, Actors & Love

The Truth and Goodbye

Dylan's POV

I wasn't able to sleep that night. How could I? I'm the one who hit Della. I'm the reason she is here. I'm the cause of all the pain she's felt in the last fourteen months. I'm why she'll never be able to sing again.

I checked the time and bit my lip. I grabbed my phone, shoved it into my back pocket, and quickly left my room. I walked as fast as I could without running towards Dr. Hailey's office.

"Dylan."

I turned around when I heard Justin, my PT, call out to me. "We missed you in group session."

"Oh," I said under my breath. "Sorry. I umm. . . I forgot."

"Are you feeling okay?" He asked me.

"Yeah," I stuttered. "Just. . . Conflicted."

"About going home?" He laughed.

"Going where?" I said, my breath getting caught in my throat.

"Going home," Justin said slowly. "Didn't they tell you? You're clear to go home, Dylan. As soon as Charles comes and checks you out. Which I called him about. He should be here tomorrow morning, so make sure you pack tonight."

I was completely stunned as he walked away. I was going home. I've been here my full two months and I was finally going home.

"No," I said under my breath. I turned around, looking towards Della's room. What are the odds that the day I'm finally able to go home is the same day I find out the truth about Della's accident?

I definitely have to tell her before I leave.

Instead of walking and talking to Dr. Hailey about it, I turned on my heel and headed towards Della's room. The whole way there, I thought about what I was going to say. How do you explain to a person that you're the one who ruined their life?

Hey there, Della. So, you know the son of a bitch who crashed into you that night and ruined your life? Yeah, hate to be the one to tell you this but that was me. Sorry.

I rolled my eyes as I walked down her hallway. I stopped in front of her door, second-guessing everything. I shook my head when I knew that I had to tell her. Especially before I left. Before I could run away like the coward I really was, I knocked on her door.

I held my breath waiting for her to open it. My nerves jumped when Della's door opened, a smile on her face when our eyes met.

"Hey," she greeted. "What are you doing here?" My heart sank when she let out a small laugh.

"I umm," I stuttered. "We need to talk."

"Okay," she said slowly as she opened her door for me to come in. Her eyebrows furrowed together when she noticed I didn't make a move to step into her room.

"Is everything okay?" She hesitated, still looking at me warily. I took a deep breath as I decided to rip it off like a bandaid. Before I could, she spoke up. "Dylan, what's going on? You were MIA yesterday and you've been acting weird ever since I told you more about my accident."

"I'm leaving," I said quickly. I held my breath as I waited for her to say something.

"Oh," she said softly. She opened her mouth to say something else, but before she could, I cut her off.

"And. . . And there's something else," I said slowly. I couldn't do this. I couldn't look her in the eyes and tell her the truth. But, I couldn't lie to her either.

She waited patiently for me to build up the nerve to tell her. But I couldn't. I couldn't say those words. I couldn't admit that it was me. Especially with the way she was looking at me.

Sighing, I reached into my pocket and handed her my phone. She looked at me like I was crazy.

"What?"

"Just," I sighed, "read it."

I held my breath as she read through the title of the article. "O'Brien Crashes. Again." She sighed as she looked up from my phone. "Dylan, what is this?"

"Keep reading," I said, my voice barely audible. "It explains everything."

She looked at me before glancing down at my phone and reading through the article. I could tell the further down she got because of the look in her eyes.

Della looked up at me with a look on her face that I'll never forget. "What is this, Dylan?" She asked, the anger building.

"It's the truth," I said slowly.

"The truth about what?" She asked, harshly. "Stop beating around the damn bush, Dylan, and spit it out. What does this mean?"

"It means," I hesitated.

Can you blame me for hesitating? What I was about to say was going to change how she saw me. Forever.

I sighed as I gathered as much courage as I could. "It means that your accident was my fault."

Her eyes filled with tears, making me feel like the worst human being on the face of the earth. She looked between me and the article on my phone as the tears streamed down her cheeks.

"It was my second strike. I had no idea. . . We were drunk off our asses. . . Our lawyers told us not to say anything. . . I didn't mean for it to happen. . . I had no idea. . . I'm so sorry, Della."

As I stuttered out an apology, Della didn't look up from my phone. She closed her eyes, more tears escaping, and held my phone out for me to take. I hesitated before grabbing it and shoving it in my pocket.

"Please say something," I begged. "Della, talk to me. Please."

She opened her eyes, the tears suddenly gone. They were replaced with a look of anger, hate, defeat, and betrayal.

"I'm so sorry, Della." My voice broke as I begged for her forgiveness. "I didn't know."

"How could you?" She said, her voice emotionless. "There was no way of knowing that your drunken actions would ruin someone's life. There was no possible way of knowing that our actions have consequences, and sometimes you aren't the one to pay the price. Others are."

Her anger built and it became clear she was being sarcastic. Instead of trying to defend myself, I stood there and took it. I deserved it.

"Goodbye, Dylan."

"Wait!" I yelled, stopping her from closing the door. I opened and closed my mouth, unable to think of anything to say to her. "I don't. . . I don't want to leave like this."

"Then how do you want to leave?" Her voice finally broke as the tears formed again. "What could you possibly have to say to me right now? It was you, Dylan. You got drunk and hit me that night. It was you!"

She opened her mouth like she was going to say something else, but closed it when she decided not to. Silence fell between us as we stared at each other.

"Go back to your perfect Hollywood life, Dylan," she sighed, looking away from me. Della hesitated before adding, "Evan was right about you."

"Della," I said, my voice breaking.

"I've been through enough, Dylan. I don't need to be played with like some toy you can use and toss to the side when you get tired of me."

"I never. . ." I stuttered.

"Goodbye, Dylan."