Page 11 of Pieces of Us

‘Why?’ I whisper, further tormenting myself. ‘Why her? Why wasn’t I enough? Why did you not tell me?’ I don’t mean for my voice to crack, but it does. I need to know either way.

Without looking up from the hardwood floors, he mutters out a pathetic excuse. ‘I’m so, so sorry, Amity. I never meant for this to happen, or for you to find out this way…but…’

‘But what?’ I snap. He doesn’t answer me. His silence is not only deafening but debilitating. ‘Tell me, fuckwit. Tell me why I deserve this!’ I demand. My voice is hoarse and comes out scratchy.

Lifting his head, he babbles out more pathetic excuses. ‘Billie and I…we got closer. It felt like we were dancing around the next step for months. She was there for me…when you left. When you weren’t there. It just happened…’

I huff out an incredulous laugh. ‘Oh. It just happened, huh? Your cock just happened to slip into her waiting pussy, is that right?’ When he doesn’t respond, I know he’s gone further than just touching her. ‘You know what? I never want to be near you ever again. Go to hell, Lincoln. I hate you. I hate you!’ I screech. Turning around, I storm out of the house I once called home.

‘Amity.’ I hear his tortured plea behind me.

He broke us.

Our friendship.

The respect.

The loyalty.

The trust.

Our love.

All obliterated and shattered into shards that will never fit back together again.

I stumble back to Lily’s car, mute, silent tears streaming down my face. My breath comes out in suspended spurts as I try to get a hold of my breathing.

Lily doesn’t want to leave me when she drops back to my place, but I beg her, saying that I just need to be alone. I slink like a panther back into the house, quietly trying to escape my dad’s interrogation. Once I’ve made it up the stairs, I’m safe. Silently closing my door, I click the lock in place, lay on my freshly made bed, curl up into a bawl, and cry until I pass out.

Chapter 7

Numb

Amity—Year 12

It kills me that I now resent the song ‘Numb’ by Linkin Park, all because he was named after the band. But that is exactly how I feel. Numb. I don’t know if I possess any feeling other than desolation.

The first few weeks at my old school have been the epitome of hell. By the end of the first week, a cacophony of rumours threatened to drown me. They ranged from Lincoln supposedly dumping me, to Billie and him reigniting an old flame they once had, to him cheating on me our whole relationship with her.

The worst one that swirled in my mind was how Lincoln preferred a girl that looked more like him (AKA fit). My insecurities about my body and idea of perfection intensified tenfold, pushing me to take drastic measures and make an appointment with my doctor to discuss weight loss. My BMI was in the ‘obese’ category, so he had no qualms about prescribing me a year-long prescription for a weight loss drug, which was surprisingly easy to get my hands on.

Now, for the first time in weeks, I feel like this could be the answer to a new beginning for me. What better way to show him what he’s missing than by having a major glow-up? I had already started limiting my food and exercising. This drug just helps see results faster. Nausea, cramping and constipation are common side effects of the weekly injection, but then again, the same symptoms could be said about having to see Lincoln around school with her.

Preferring to live in lala land, I keep my head down most of the time, determined to ignore the constant jabs and sneers from my peers. I also don’t want to see the smirks from spiteful bitches or his disgusting buddies, knowing they are revelling in my heartache.

I forgot to take my injection this morning, which is why I am hiding in toilets that look more like a dungeon. The hallway is dimly lit, and no one really comes down here unless they are blowing their boyfriends. If I get caught with a needle at school, I’ll for sure be expelled, but I need to inject myself. It’s a visceral need to speed the process up faster.

Pinching my skin to find a non-tender spot, I freeze when I hear the click clack of footsteps drawing closer. Please, God, don’t let it be anyone I know. I’ve already resigned myself to the fact that I’m stuck in this rank cubicle until they leave.

‘I still can’t believe the audacity of Amity, just barging into the party like she did.’ My heart leaps into my throat at my name. Our group has pretty much been divided down the middle since the incident, but the nasally voice bouncing off the walls is definitely Billie’s best friend, Zara, who clearly hasn’t moved on from that night.

‘I know, right? So desperate,’ another lackey joins in. I can’t decipher who it is. I crouch on the toilet, praying I stay invisible.

‘As if she thought Lincoln would stay with a fat shit like her,’ Zara spits out again, making the rest bark out in laughter. There are four, maybe five of them.

‘Shamu never stood a chance. Always thinking she was better than us.’ Hearing Billie call me a whale makes me light-headed.

Is this what he thinks as well?

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