Page 123 of The Publicity Stunt
“Stop … stop it. You’re lying.”
“They said they tried their best.”
“No … no … no!” She hits my arms. Again. And again. And again.
I tighten my grip around her.
She cries harder. So do I.
We cry and we cry and we cry.
And I don’t think we ever stop.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
Eight Years Ago
HAYDEN
At our age, everything is changing. It’s hard to notice, but one day you look back and realize everything has changed. People you thought were going to be there forever aren’t. People you thought you’d be speaking to are now a distant memory. Nothing makes sense and nothing feels good anymore.
Sometimes, trauma brings out the best in people. No matter what you’ve faced and lost, you will come out of it strong.
But sometimes, all it does is bring out one’s worst.
I’m sitting on our couch, lazily flipping through the channels on the television, when April walks out of our room. She’s wearing a short black dress and an overcoat.
She doesn’t look at me.
It’s been six months since the accident.
Six months since Logan.
Six months since April’s looked at me for more than a few seconds.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
Her answer is curt and to the point. “Out.” She brushes the hair away from her face and keeps her eyes locked on her shoes. The scars around her eyes are healing. The ones on her wrists aren’t. Those came later.
“Out where?”
“To a bar,” she says.
I put the TV on mute and sit up. “With?”
“Friends.”
I frown. We don’t have those anymore. It used to be the two of us. Me and April. Then it became the four of us. Me, April, Shara, and Logan. Now, it’s all a mess.
Shara asked April not to come to his funeral. I remember coming back home to find April in the bathroom. The door was locked and it took me two hard rams before it swung open. She hadn’t done anything. Not yet. She was fully clothed, sitting in a corner with her arms clinging around her legs, and her knees pressed to her chest. Not crying, not talking, just sitting.
Sitting and shivering.
I pulled her into a hug and held her for hours. Eventually we fell asleep right there on the bathroom floor. That was the last time I held April in my arms. She acts like she doesn’t need me, and I act like I don’t need her either. It’s easier that way.
“I need names, April,” I tell her. “And a number I can call.”
This time she looks up. “A number you can call?”
