Page 42 of Desolation

Hope that she will apologize for ghosting me.

Hope that she will let me kiss her again.

I slam my fists over and over into the bag. Fighting myself over feelings of guilt and hope. Memories of Sam flash into my mind, allowing the guilt to overtake the hope. Rage filling my veins as I beat harder and harder into the bag.

This is the feeling I need.

These are the things I need to remember.

This is how I should feel.

I am to blame for all the things that happened in my life. And I need to remember it.

I only stop the beatdown of the punching bag when I hear my phone start ringing. I rip one of my gloves off just in time to grab it. I don’t even look at the screen before I answer and the voice on the other end, makes me nearly fall to the ground.

“Landon.”

My breath seizes in my chest. My palms grow sweaty and not from the layers of tape wrapped around my hands.

“Are you there?”

I can’t find words as the hands of guilt start to claw at my chest, making their way around my throat and leaving me gasping for breath.

“It will be a year next Thursday,” the soft voice says into the phone. “I—I… I don’t even know why I’m calling.” The woman sniffles on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry. I—I’ve been horrible—”

“Stop,” I grit into the phone. “Don’t apologize.”

I can see the tears streaming down her face without even seeing her. I know they are there. But I can’t listen to her tell me she’s sorry. I need her to blame me. I need her to hate me. It’s the only way I can get through the guilt. Because it was all my fault.

“Landon, I never should—”

“Yes, Aubrey. Yes, you should. It was my fault. Keep blaming me. It’s how this works.”

Her cries intensify as I hear her gasping for breath. “I miss him, Landon. I miss you too. I didn’t think I would lose you both. I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

I groan as I listen to my best friend’s widow fall apart over the phone. “You should call your sister.”

“She doesn’t understand.”

“I can’t help you, Aubrey.”

She sighs before answering. “My therapist has helped me realize none of this was your fault. I—I think I need to talk to you. Apologize. Move on.”

I punch the bag with my gloved fist. “There is no apologizing. I am to blame. You made that abundantly clear a year ago.”

“I—I—”

“Call your sister. I have to go.”

I hit end on the phone and throw it into my bag before letting out a guttural scream. A few heads turn my way but I’m quickly forgotten. I lean my forehead against the wall and take a few deep breaths. I can’t listen to her apologize. She has been trying to for the last few months. Therapy is apparently helping her but it doesn’t help me. I won’t let her take the blame from me. Sam is dead because of me. She lost the love of her life because I got distracted. I never get distracted.

I pull my other glove off as I let the anger build up. I turn back to the bag and punch it raw until the tape rips on my knuckles, until my hands start to bleed.

I don’t stop until one of the trainers walks over to me and pulls me away.

He doesn’t ask questions. Just pushes me into a chair and grabs a bag of ice for each hand. I stare at the floor, my thoughts eating away at me. I don’t move until I feel water dripping down my legs, the ice completely melted.

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