Page 34 of A Little Broken

“So I’m just a rich dick to you.”

“I mean, look at it this way. You got a fun night with a groupie, and I got a memorable birthday present from a rockstar. Sounds like a win-win to me, am I right?”

Red taints my vision. “You lied.”

“I guess I did, didn’t I?” She twists the gold ring around her middle finger and lifts a shoulder, appearing about as affected by our conversation as she would watching paint dry. “Even more reason to not track me down after I walk out the door.”

I stare down at her, disgusted. Pretty sure she’s never felt like more of a stranger than in this moment. “Who. Are. You?” I demand.

She flinches at the animosity in my voice before lowering her chin in a soft nod. “Have a good night, Pax.”

Then, she walks away.

8

TATUM

Dear Archer,

Hi.

Iwipe at my tear-stained cheeks and scratch out the word before writing beside it. God, I’m a mess, and I don’t even know why. Okay, scratch that. I might have an idea, but the possibility is something I refuse to acknowledge. It’s just a bad day. That’s all. Tomorrow will be better. Or maybe it won’t. It’s not like it matters anyway, right?

I shake my head and force myself to focus on the page in front of me no matter how impossible it feels.

I miss you. I know it’s stupid. I know you won’t reply. You can’t. You’re dead. But my therapist told me to write to you. He said I should get some things off my chest. That I should tell you everything I wanted to say before you died.

I told him it was a waste of time, and in a way, I guess it still is. But it’s been years, Arch.Years since you left. Since your life was ripped from you. And it’s weird. Because it feels like it was yesterday. Like you were just here. Just a text away. That I’ll see you at brunch…or at least I would if I still went to them.

I shake my head and scribble out the sentence and start again.

Then, I think of all the pain I’ve been drowning in since your death, and…it twists the time, making it drag out into…fucking eternity. Hell, it feels like it’s been so long that I don’t even know how to live without it. The pain. The constant ache. The reminder that you’re gone and everyone else is still here. Living. It’s why I hate brunch. Why I hate Mav and Ophelia and Lockwood Heights in general. Because you’re supposed to be here, Arch. But you aren’t. You aren’t here. Does that make sense?

A pathetic laugh escapes me as I wipe beneath my nose and continue writing.

What am I saying? Of course, it doesn’t make sense. I’m writing to a dead person. None of this makes sense. All I know is I’m tired. So damn tired, Arch. I don’t know what else to do. Howcan I let someone go when they were never mine to begin with?

My pen hovers above the page.

How can I let someone go when they were never mine to begin with?

I suck my bottom lip into my mouth and bite down. Hard.

I can’t.

I’ve tried. Trust me, I’ve tried, Arch. But even now, I miss you. You used to tell me I could come to you for anything. I’m not sure if you would even remember telling me that if you were still here, but you did. And honestly, I miss that, too. Knowing I had someone. Someone who saw me.

Now? Now, I’m afraid I’m as much of a ghost as you are. But maybe it’s how it’s supposed to be.

Love,

-Tatum

9

TATUM

A FEW YEARS LATER…

---