Page 75 of Faux Real
She expels a trembling breath, craning her neck toward me, her eyes bloodshot, tired, fucking devastated. I clench my jaw. He sure did a number on her. I should go back and sock him in the face.
“He— he said I have no heart, Ollie,” she cries, her voice hoarse. “He said that I never prioritized him, that I never put him first, that I— ” She closes her eyes, letting out a whimper. “I tried, Oliver, I tried but he doesn’t get it, he doesn’t understand.”
“What doesn’t he understand?” I ask, tightening my grip around her body.
No heart? What a wanker. She’s got more heart than anyone I know.
“It’s so hard, Ollie,” she sniffles. “No one understands. I’m only one person. There are only so many hours in the day. How am I supposed to make everyone happy? How am I supposed to be at three places at once? How?”
“It’s impossible,” I say. “You can’t make everyone happy, Kennedy, no one can.” I pause, playing with a strand of her loose hair that’s flowing down her back. “But sometimes, it’s good to take a break, you can’t beontwenty-four seven.”
“Ican’ttake a break,” she whispers, shaking her head. “I need to keep busy; I need to keep going, keep working, keep studying. I can’t stop, Ollie. I can’t.”
“Why?” I ask as she looks up at me, her make-up rolling down her face. “It’s only school, Kennedy, it’s not everything. There’s so much more to life than textbooks and reports and essays.”
“No, there isn’t."
“Of course there is, love,” I say, caressing her shoulder. “There’s a whole world outside of the classroom and you should be enjoying it while you can.”
“I can’t,” she says, biting her quivering lip. “I have nothing to enjoy.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, my brows knitting together in confusion. “Nothing to enjoy?”
“I’m not like you, Ollie, I don’t have hobbies, I don’t have anything that makes me happy,” she cries, wiping under her eyes. “I’m only good at one thing and that’s school. If I stop, if I take a break, if I give myself time to think about it—” Her face contorts in such deep pain that I feel it in my gut. “I’m scared I’ll realize just how fucking miserable I am.”
It’s odd. I know exactly what she’s talking about. Misery hides in the darkest parts of your mind, just waiting for a chance to swallow you whole. Misery is clever like that; it pops up when it knows it can hurt you the most.
For me, that’s at night. And the day. All the time really.
“Come here,” I whisper, pulling her into my arms as she nuzzles her face into my shoulder, my chin resting on the top of her head. “You’re okay, Kennedy. You’re okay.”
“I’m so tired, Ollie,” she breathes, fisting my jacket. “I’m so fucking tired all the time and when Idosleep, waking up is like a task, it takesso mucheffort. I’d rather just stay awake, I’d rather be tired than feel...nothing.”
“I know that feeling,” I whisper, raking my fingers through her silky hair. “I know.”
“You do?” she asks, pulling away from me, her glossy eyes scanning my face.
“Yeah.” I nod, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Two years ago, for about six months, I could barely get out of bed, I just didn’t care, I didn’t want to do anything. I just wanted to sleep.” I lower my voice, unwelcome memories flashing through my mind. “Preferably forever.”
“I’m sorry,” Kennedy whispers, her empathetic eyes flickering around my face.
“Don’t be,” I say, expelling a labored sigh. “It is what it is. I’ve learned to live with it.”
“Does it ever get better?” she asks, her tone laced with broken hope. “Does it go away?”
“Not really,” I admit, my gaze floating down to her pink lips. “But it gets easier to manage.”
“How?” she breathes, resting her hand on her knee. “How do I make it go away?”
“You find something that’s worth waking up for,” I reply, my voice wavering from her touch. “Something that’ll get you through the day.”
“What gets you through the day, Ollie?” she whispers, her chest rising.
“Music,” I say, covering her hand with mine, a rippling sensation of comfort coursing through my body. Her fingers wiggle under my grasp but she doesn’t move. “Photography...” I swallow as she leans a little bit closer to me, her sweet breath fanning against my lips. “Y—”
“Ken-Ken! Where you hiding, bitch?” Kennedy immediately pulls away, snapping her head toward the top of the staircase.What the fuck was that?“Oh damn! I found her, she’s with British-boy!”
“Shit,” Kenny mutters, ducking down as she wipes the evidence of her breakdown off of her face. Clearing her throat, she smiles up at Maxine. “Hey-hey!”
