Page 118 of When Wrecked Meets Ruined
December 6th
Things I’m grateful for:
My aunt Lindsay and her husband, Joe. They took Wren and me in and never once made us feel like a burden. Which is more than I could say about my own mother. Lindsay kept apologizing for not keeping in touch and for abandoning me. But I knew it was my mother’s fault, not hers, and Lindsay didn’t realize how bad things had gotten. So I don’t blame her for anything.
Wren. Always. She’s happy here. She loves her cousin. Luna is five. They’re already the best of friends and share a room. Wren sleeps on the bottom bunk, Luna on the top. At night before they go to sleep, I hear them giggling, and it makes me smile. I don’t think Wren will remember our mom or Wade or our life in Cypress Springs. And that’s a good thing.
I have my own room in Joe and Lindsay’s house. The walls are painted dusty lilac, and the floral comforter on the bed matches the curtains on the window. It’s pretty and feminine, an overload of pastels. It’s not my style. But when Lindsay offered to help me redecorate, I told her it was perfect as it is. Left to my own devices, I’d paint the walls black to match my soul.
I got a new job that forces me to leave the house for something other than to see my therapist. I work the counter at the Cinemark. Bonus points: Free movies.
Quinn. When she calls, she doesn’t push me to talk about things I’d prefer not to: Ridge, that horrible night, Ridge, all the things I’ve kept from her over the years. Ridge. She’s a good friend. The very best.
December 21st
This morning I told my therapist that I blamed Ridge for what happened to me. It just slipped out. I immediately regretted it and tried to take it back. I don’t really blame him. How could I? It wasn’t his fault.
I always prided myself on being tough and not needing anyone. Until I fell in love with Ridge. I needed him too much. I relied on him more than I should have. And I stayed in Cypress Springs because of him.
I’d been so torn—should I call Lindsay and ask her to take us in? Should I ask her to take Wren so I’d only have to worry about myself? Selfishly, I’d been leaning in that direction. I allowed myself to fantasize about my life… eighteen and in love with a hotshot football player. I could go to all his games. Hang out with him at the parties afterward. Be a regular college kid. Ridge and I could have it all.
In the end, I did nothing. I didn’t call Lindsay. I just stayed in that shitty house and waited for Ridge to come and rescue me.
And I kept thinking… What if he’d gotten to my house an hour earlier? What if… what if…
I conjured up this whole image in my head. Ridge flirting with another girl. A carefree, beautiful girl who didn’t have a messy life and a shitload of baggage. A girl who looked up at him with adoration in her eyes. A girl who went to every game and cheered him on. Gave him the love and support he needed and deserved.
A girl who was nothing like me.
I kept thinking that was why he hadn’t gotten to me sooner. But I know my thinking is warped.
There was a girl at one of his games. Pretty. Petite. Dark hair. Her name was Gabriella. She was the quarterback’s sister. I could tell she had a crush on Ridge. You just know these things. A sixth sense, I guess.
After the game, I questioned Ridge. He said they had a class together. I kept pushing him, Do you think she’s pretty?
He shrugged and said he hadn’t noticed.
I accused him of lying. I kept pushing and pushing and pushing until he finally admitted that yeah, she was pretty but so what. There are a lot of pretty girls on campus. That doesn’t mean I’m hooking up with any of them.
Sometimes I wonder how he could have ever loved me when all I’d ever done was make his life more difficult.
I was a shitty girlfriend.
But god, Ilovedlove him so much.
January 1st
New year, new me. Not really. Same old me. Different scenery.
Some days just getting out of bed and surviving another day feels like a major achievement. Lindsay keeps assuring me it will get better. When will it get better? I wish there was a magic pill I could take. But I already tried that, and it didn’t work out so great. I guess the only way to come out the other side is to put in the hard work and get through it. There are no shortcuts. No easy way out. No magic bullet.
My anxiety attacks are so bad that I feel like I’m dying. But I’m not. I’m just struggling to breathe. Struggling to keep my head above water.
I think about Ridge. A lot. How could I not? There’s a hole in my heart from giving up the only boy I’d ever loved. Letting him go was the hardest thing I ever did, but it was necessary.
I did it for him. And I guess for me, too.
Even before the night that man assaulted me, I was drowning under the weight of it all.
