Page 49 of Fragments of You

“Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” I admit, lifting my shoulder in a sad attempt at a shrug.

“Is there anything else? Anything at all you didn’t tell me?”

“No.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. But at the end of the day, I know telling him everything will only further complicate an already complicated situation. Sometimes it’s better to leave certain things unsaid. Especially when they won’t change the outcome of the future I’ve chosen... With him.

“I love you.” He abruptly steps into me, tipping my chin up so that he can look into my eyes. “I love you so fucking much it terrifies me sometimes.” He cups my face with both hands. “I don’t think I would survive losing you.”

“You’re not going to lose me.” I choke, fighting off tears that suddenly tickle my lashes.

“Tell me this is over. That Nash is out of the picture and going forward it’s just us.”

“It’s over. The letters were my way of saying goodbye.” I want to believe my words so desperately that I almost convince myself they’re true, but letting go of someone you loved with your entire being for the better part of twelve years isn’t always so cut and dry.

Nash is embedded into my very core. There are traces of him everywhere. And while I refuse to let the past take away the future I built in his absence, I’m not naïve enough to believe this is even close to over. I’ll say it for Felix’s sake because it’s what he needs to hear, but I know Nash better than anyone, and if I had to wager a guess on what happens next, I’d say we’re only just getting started...

Chapter Twelve

Nash

DEAR NASH,

I visited the Pash Pebble today. It felt so different without you. Smaller somehow, like you had taken a bit of our place with you. I sat there for so long my body ached, but I couldn’t seem to find the strength to leave. Afternoon turned to evening, evening to night. Before I knew it, the sun had disappeared completely and darkness had taken its place, and yet, I still remained. I felt paralyzed by the memories we shared there, as if they were holding me hostage. And then, out of nowhere, a wave of panic washed over me, the realization that you were really gone seeming to finally sink in. I couldn’t breathe. I thought for sure I was dying. Everything hurt so much that it was like I was being ripped apart from the seams.

How do I live without you? How do I exist in this place without the person who holds every significant memory I have? I can’t breathe, Nash. I can’t breathe without you. It hurts so bad. I just want the pain to stop. I just want it all to end.

Felix found me. I don’t know how he knew where I’d be. Have you taken him to our spot? What else did you tell him? Does he know what happened there? The memories that haunt it?

He had to carry me out of the woods. I was too weak to even stand. He promised me that eventually it won’t hurt so much, but I don’t think I can believe him. Not when the pain feels so endless I’m sure I’ll die with it.

I still don’t understand how you could just leave. Years of spending every possible moment together and now there’s nothing but emptiness in your stead. Did I mean so little? Was it something I did but you were too afraid to tell me? Is it my fault?

I think that’s what scares me the most, the thought I could have been the very thing that drove you away. But if that were true, how did I not notice? Did you pull away? Were there signs that I ignored? Was I so comfortable in the future I knew we’d have that I grew complacent?

If it is my fault, if I’m the reason you left, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for whatever I did that you felt like there was no other way. If you come back, I promise I’ll do better. I’ll do anything. Just please come home, Nash. Please. I need you.

I love you with all of me,

Paisley

I set the letter aside, my chest heavy with guilt as I pick up another. She put them in order. Every single letter. Every single second of her heartbreak documented in chronological order. I’ve only made it through twenty-eight letters, and in truth, I don’t know how I’m going to keep going. All I know for sure is that I have to. I owe her that much.

Taking a deep inhale through my nose, I pick up the next letter.

Dear Nash,

My mom asked me if I needed to talk to someone today. She and Dad are afraid I’m going to do something drastic. Her words, of course. I tried my best to lie, but I don’t think she believed me. They think I’m going to hurt myself. I think they might be right. I never thought I’d say that. Before all of this, the thought had never even crossed my mind, but now, I think about it every day.

I think about what it would feel like to slip into oblivion. Would I be scared? Would I be relieved? Would it hurt? I lie in bed at night and think about how I would do it.

I considered a razor to my wrists or a gun in my mouth, but then I couldn’t bear for my parents to find me that way. I could jump off a bridge or a building, but you know how much I hate heights. I probably wouldn’t even make it up to the top before chickening out. Pills seem like the easiest option. I could simply go to sleep and that would be that, but I have no idea how many pills it would take or what kind would do the trick, and I’m too scared to look it up out of fear of someone finding out before I can actually do it. A car accident seems like the best way to go. That way, no one will know I willingly ended it, that I took the coward’s way out because I couldn’t do it anymore.

I’ve thought about it a lot. I’d have to ensure that I would die, which is the hardest part. I thought about running my car into a tree at a high speed. That wouldn’t be a guarantee, but maybe if I didn’t wear a seat belt. I doubt I could survive being ejected from a car at those kinds of speeds, but crazier things have happened.

I thought about driving off Wickens Bridge—seemed fitting truly—but I don’t want to drown. I want it to be quick. Quick enough that I don’t suffer. Then again, the physical pain might be a welcome relief from the emotional torment I’ve been living with for the past twenty-nine days.

Then I think about you. What would you do when you found out I was gone? Would you feel bad for leaving? Would you regret it? Would you even mourn me at all? I guess I wouldn’t be around to find out. I mean, unless ghosts really do exist. But if that’s true, then my suffering will never end.

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