Page 18 of Forgiving Fate

Of course. Of course, this fuckingassholecouldn’t just leave me without one final fuck you. I don’t even know what to do or say, so I do what I do with everything that has happened over the past few months. I push it away to the dark depths of my mind and lock it up to deal with later.

My nails dig into my palms, that are in fists down at my side. Taking a deep breath, I steel my spine and say, “Okay. Can I go inside now?” My voice sounding void of emotion.

“Yeah. If it is okay with you, I would like to go with you. I will stay on the porch the entire time, but I want to be within hearing distance if something happens. I promise I won’t get in your way.”

Wanting to get this over with, I nod and make my way to the house.

My foot hesitates for a moment as I raise it to take the steps I have taken hundreds of thousands of times. I push the emotion bubbling in my chest away and walk up to the front door.

Taking one last deep breath, I turn the knob and the smell of home hits me. Tears fill my eyes and I will them to stop. I step over the threshold and glance over my shoulder. Landon is leaning against the white wooden column, his eyes locked on me. He gives me a curt nod and with that, I walk inside, shutting the door slightly.

My feet move on their own as I walk down through the foyer into the open living. Memories flood me instantly as I run myhand along the back of the couch. The soft plush fabric where I spent many nights with my parents watching movies, laughing and crying, and sometimes just existing in the same space, not saying a single word.

I round the couch and I catch a whiff of the pumpkin, butterscotch scented candle sitting on the ottoman. A smile spreads across my face and my mind starts playing tricks on me.

I see Mom and Dad sitting on the couch. Mom’s laughter fills the air as Dad tickles her side. The candle that sits atop the ottoman is burning. In my mind, I’m sitting in the recliner off to the side of the room. I’m watching two people who are the definition of love fall deeper into each other.

A picture hangs on the wall of them dancing on their wedding day. And the memory morphs into Dad moving the tray off the ottoman and tugging Mom to stand atop it. I hear myself yell at them to be careful as Dad tells me to turn the music up.

Music filters through the air and Rascal Flatts’, Bless the Broken Road filters through the room. They hold each other close and I listen as they trade off singing to each other.

My eyes close and I feel their voices sink into my soul. I feel the silent tears cascading down my face. I don’t care. I take it all in. Because in this moment, the pain doesn’t exist and I am here with the two people I love more than life itself.

The song comes to a close and I open my eyes to watch the moment Dad is about to dip Mom, but when I do, the room is empty. And they are gone.

My chest constricts and, just as suspected, the pain is hitting me like a freight train barreling into a brick wall.

My knees wobble, threatening to give out, but I don’t let myself. I can’t. Because if I fall now, I will never get back up.

Using every ounce of strength I have left, I make my way through the rest of the house. Memories of Mom, Dad, and even Logan fill the room.

I make my way up the stairs and smile at the photos lining the wall. They are filled with simpler times. Times where we spent weeks at the beach. Trips to Disney. And as I reach the top, my steps fumble as my eyes land on the last photo.

It’s a picture of Logan and me on graduation day. The smiles on our faces couldn’t be bigger and I am taken back to that moment. We were so happy and didn’t have a care in the world other than passing the state nursing exam.

Little did I know, Logan was shielding me from a darkness no one could have ever seen looming on the horizon.

Taking the last step, I walk through into my parents’ room and my mother’s perfume mixed with my father’s cologne fills my nose. Her signature sweetpea scent mixing in perfect combination with my father’s woodsy cinnamon scent.

For the first time, the pain is too much and I walk out of the room, unable to go any further.

I walk through the rest of the rooms and come to a stop outside of my bedroom door. It is slightly open and my hand pauses on the door.

“You can do this.Heisn’t here,” I tell myself.

Pushing open the door, I freeze. I didn’t even stop to think whathecould have done when Landon tried to warn me. But now I am regretting not asking more questions because the scene in front of me is…devastating.

The walls, where posters and photos once hung, are hanging off in shreds. My bed looks likehetook a knife to the entire thing and tried to make a mosaic with the insides. The lamp on my bedside table is shattered into millions of pieces.

My feet move on their own accord and I walk further into the room.

My closet is open, and every piece of clothing is destroyed. Including my graduation cap and gown.

I spin and get the first look at my vanity, and my heart stops. The collage hanging above sends chills down my spine. Each photo of Logan and I is morphed into some version of apsycho‘sart project.

In some, Logan’s face has a heart on it, while mine has a cigarette burn covering my face. In others, Logan’s face has an X on it and mine has Baby Doll scribbled across my entire body. The only thing remaining untouched are the faces of our friends.

And for the first time, I find the urge to log on to social media and make surehedidn’t involve them inhissick agenda.

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