What You Do To Me

Chapter 20: Brielle's POV

Max is right. Today's June 24th.

And I'm a mess.

But I need to get over this.

Over him.

Over them.

Over what they did.

Max always says that talking is the best way to get through the grief, but I've found distracting myself is the best thing to do.

I had barely thought about them all day.

My father.

And Wyatt.

Boys.

Ugh.

This is why I prefer girls.

But I had distracted myself all day. I've completed 3 drawings and started and completed 3 more. I even started a painting. I took the car, and Caleb, out for ice cream and then we went to the park. I did the dishes of course and then I spent the rest of my day by myself. I did my hair and makeup at least twice.

But now everyone's gone to bed, and Max isn't here to help me.

And I'm panicking.

I never met my father. As soon as my mom got pregnant, he left her. On this day, 18 years ago.

And then, 4 years ago, today, the love of my life left me.

And I'm still not over him!

It's bullshit!

All he ever did was cheat on me, but when he wasn't slutting around, he was sweet. He was attentive and kind, and Caleb liked him.

Wyatt.

I can still picture his face and amazing smile.

I sigh and roll on my side, glancing at the clock on my nightstand.

11:32 pm.

Who can I call? Who's awake?

Iris. Iris always knows what to say.

I grab my phone and scroll through my contacts until I find her name.

She answers on the first ring.

"Brielle?" She asks with a small yawn.

"Hey." I mumble. "I-I just need someone to talk to."

"Ok. I'm here." Iris says, all traces of sleepiness disappearing quickly.

"It-it's the twenty-sixth." I say.

"I know. I'm here." She says gently.

"And... what's wrong with me?" I ask, tears forming in my eyes.

"Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you; Wyatt just didn't deserve you." Iris says and I sigh.

"Then why did he leave?" I wonder aloud. "I loved him."

"I know you did; I know." She replies.

The tears start to slip out as I sigh again.

"Max always says h-he couldn't keep his damn eyes on me long enough to see how much I had to offer." I mumble, my tone angry.

"I agree." She says. "This might come out wrong, but in some ways I'm glad he left you."

I go silent, hurt by her words.

Damn 14-year old's, they're such bitches now.

"I-I mean!" She rushes. "Now he can't hurt you anymore."