Page 168 of The Catalyst

She’s everywhere and everything. All things that exist revolve around her and those fairy green eyes, grown-out red-dyed hair, and freckle-dusted flesh. I watch a movie, listen to a song, drive by a restaurant, and it all connects back to her.

My crazy girl.

And I am so beyond fucked.

CHAPTER 66

BETH

It’s been seven days since I heard from Oliver, eight since I saw Nigel, and twelve days since I heard from Martin.

I’m officially alone and feel utterly abandoned.

I haven’t dropped out of school, but I’ve gotten an earful from my mom since she’s now out of rehab. She calls every day and begs me to either come home or go to school.

She’s fine letting Aimee continue to stay there, and she actually likes her. Like me, she has a vague sense that she’s seen her before but doesn’t remember where. Once I told her that Aimee came from a highly abusive situation, she said she could stay as long as she wanted, which I thought was rather kind. However, that makes me feel even less comfortable in that house than I did before. Aimee needs a place to stay more than I do, even though she’s been nothing but a raging bitch to me. I should tell my mom to kick her ass to the curb, but what would that accomplish? It would just give Nigel and Aimee another reason to hate me. I don’t care what Aimee thinks about me, but it still hurts how quickly Nigel went from being completely obsessed with me to hating my guts.

Then, there’s Oliver and Martin.

Tears assault my eyes as I curl the blanket around me, watching a rerun ofFriends. I’ve spent most of the day puking my guts up, and I’ve given up on texting Ollie. He never responds. Instead, I’ve resorted to just crying my eyes out.

I’ve called and texted Martin so many times I probably look like a crazy stalker, but I’ve gotten nothing. I even went so far as to leave him a voicemail of me crying and begging for him to just talk to me.

I feel like I’ve lost my damn mind.

I lost Martin, and for some reason, I’ve lost my Oliver, too. I must have done something that sent him running from me, but I have no clue what it was. All I know is I’ve never been more miserable in my life.

Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life?

I look at myself in the mirror and take in my naturally dark brown hair. I removed the red dye with baking soda and lemon juice. Now, it’s just me, and people won’t question why I’m not coloring my hair.

I wipe my eyes as my phone vibrates. I can’t help the hope rising in my chest that it will be either Ollie or Martin, but it’s there and slowly killing me.

Judy:

I hope you’re doing okay. I’ll come visit you tomorrow. Promise. xoxo

I can’t even smile after hearing from her. It breaks my heart so thoroughly that it wasn’t either of the people I wanted to talk to. And that sucks because Judy is a great friend, and she’s always there when I need her. She doesn’t turn her back on me like Martin or ghost me like Oliver.

My stomach drops as there’s a knock at the door and it’s so soft that I almost don’t notice it, even as I sit in my hotel room in the dark.

Clearly, it’s not Judy. I don’t think my mother would come to see me at this time of day. I’m fairly certain Nigel would rather chew a mouthful of screws than see me.

Who the hell could it be?

“Coming,” I sigh as I walk over to the door and slowly undo the latch. I pull it open and surprise hits me when I see Martin standing there, his hands shoved in his pockets.

What is he doing here?

“Hi,” I whisper and he pushes past me, walking into my room. “Sure. Just come on in, Martin. Make yourself at home.”

How did he find out where I’m staying? I didn’t get the chance to tell him about my change of venue.

I close the door and turn to face him. I hope he has a really good explanation for ghosting me. I want it to be something that excuses why I haven’t heard from him in so long.

Even when Nigel and I were together, I still would get texts from Martin. It was usually cute and sweet things like how beautiful the sunset was or he heard Avril Lavigne on the radio and it made him think of how I love singing along to her songs. It was always something that made me fall even more in love with this sweet man.

“Just stop,” he mutters as he turns to me.

---