Page 14 of Oblivion

“What? Why?” she asks, visibly deflating.

“Because I don’t want to have to force him to admit he wants me. He knows how I feel, and he chose to leave. He chose to disappear in the middle of the night rather than wake up in my bed and tell me he didn’t want me. I’ve told him I want to try twice, and he’s rejected me both times. I won’t put myself out there to be rejected a third time. I know that you and Sebastian have this epic love story, but most people’s lives are just simple. They meet someone they’re attracted to, who’s attracted to them, and then they date. No offense, because I know you’re happy now, but I don’t want to have to go through what you went through to find my happy ever after.”

A part of me is expecting her to be hurt or offended. Instead, Starling laughs and shrugs. “I need you to come home, Sammy. I miss you, and I really don’t want to move somewhere cold again. I’d miss the year-round sunshine if I had to move to Massachusetts.”

“We can do girls’ night. We’ll still see each other,” I try to assure her.

“I already told you in the summer, if you go to Harvard, I go to Harvard.”

“God, I miss you,” I say, smiling widely.

“Then come home,” she insists. “I have an idea that will fix everything.”

Two Weeks Later

I think Starling may have finally snapped. As I watch through the screen, she expertly uses a scalpel to cut the tiny tracker out of Bunny’s neck, blood coating her latex glove-coated hand as she wipes the cut with gauze.

The expression on my bestie’s face is barely recognizable now. Earlier when Bunny had told us all the fucked-up stuff Hunter had done and said to her to convince her to marry him, I watched the change take over Starling until she was cold and lethally focused. I’ve never seen her like that before, but even through the computer, I can feel the impact of her emotions.

Bunny is a mixture of shellshocked and resolved, and January just looks worried. When Starling first told me she wanted to have an escape plan in place, I thought she was kind of crazy. But I understood her need to have some way to get away from Sebastian just in case—not that I think he’d cross a line that Starling would see as unforgivable again.

I helped her prepare her go bag. I learned how to cut the tracker in her skin out and even purchased the burner phones that she’s showing Bunny right now. But I never assumed she’d need any of the preparations we’d made or that she’d be giving her escape plan to Bunny to help her get away from Hunter.

For the first time in months, I wish I was at Kingsacre and not hiding from the decisions I need to make. If I was there,maybe I could bring my bestie back from the edge and the line she just crossed, a line she may not ever be able to come back from.

Six Weeks Later

It’s been six months since the last time I saw Evan or the rest of my friends. The people I left in California after the wedding were happy. They were young and rich and in love. Now, from what I’ve seen through the occasional calls I get from Starling, everything has changed.

I’m not entirely sure what was said, but according to January, Starling lost her shit when she dropped the bomb that Bunny was gone, and that Hunter would never find her unless she wanted to be found.

She blurted out all the fucked-up truths that she’s kept locked inside of her and imploded our group in a way that they may never be able to come back from. Despite the awful things Hunter has done to her, Bunny is apparently back at school with him. But Hunter isn’t talking to Starling. Evan is suffocating under the weight of the guilt he feels. Clay is desperately trying to prove to January that he’s worthy of her gentle soul. And Sebastian has lost his mind convinced that Starling is about to disappear.

Instead of jumping from the sinking ship that is our obliterated friendship group, I’m packed and boarding a plane for California today instead of heading to Harvard like I should be. Something about the lost distance in my friends’ voices the last time I spoke to them is drawing me to them. And maybe it’sa foolish dream, but I feel like I need to fix them before I leave them.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Mama says, for the fiftieth time.

“Mama, you knew I was going to go back to school eventually. I’ve missed an entire semester. I can’t miss any more classes.”

“What about Drew and Harvard?” she asks, her Southern drawl curling around each word.

“Drew is…a good friend, but starting at Harvard mid-year doesn’t make any sense. I wouldn’t even have anywhere to live. But you already know all this,” I remind her. My parents don’t want me to go back to Kingsacre. They’d love for me to write off the rest of this year and start my sophomore year over again in the fall either at Harvard with Drew or at a school close enough that I can live at home.

They don’t understand why I’d go back to a school where they believe I don’t have any friends, when I could go to Harvard with Drew. A part of me wishes that I could tell them about Starling and the others, but explaining that I moved out of the room they’ve been paying for and into a house with people they’ve never heard of and I’ve never mentioned might send my dad back to the hospital.

If I’d been honest with them, Mama would have known about my awesome bestie and her crazy husband. She’d have met them all when they flew on their private jet to support me after Dad’s heart attack. She’d know that the doctors, physiotherapists, and dietitians that contacted us were because Sebastian paid for them and that my friends all love me and miss me, no matter how messed up our group is.

But my mama has no clue about any of that because I was so determined to be a new version of myself that I split my world down the middle and made sure the two sides never even touched, let alone crossed over.

Hugging Mama one last time, I smile at my dad, then turn and drag my case away from the car and into the airport. Leaving is harder than I expected, but I’ll be home in a couple of months for spring break, and I’ll be calling regularly to check on my dad.

Checking into my flight at the desk, I hand over my case, then take my boarding pass and make my way to security. Once I’m in the departures lounge, I grab a coffee, then make my way to the gate.

“Samantha.”

At the sound of my name being called, I look over my shoulder, but all I see is an airport full of unfamiliar faces. Deciding that I must be hearing things, I turn back around.

“Samantha.”

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