Affliction

“Holly,” someone calls for me, but my mind has checked out, my escape my only concern. Making my way out into the parking lot, I rush to my car and throw myself in before the panic completely takes over. I lock the doors as my body heaves in silent sobs and my perfectly constructed armor comes crashing down. I want to turn it all off, shut everyone out and hide my shame.

“Open the door, Holly.” Someone bangs on the window, but all I can see is my tu

“Holly, open the door or I'll break the window.” I hear another voice, this time deeper, but I can’t control my actions. My main worry is not letting the darkness take me. A large smash pulls me back, then my front door opens and I’m pulled from the driver's seat by strong arms. I don’t know what I was thinking trying to get out. I know I’m not capable of driving, not capable of even talking. I just needed to get away from here.

“She can’t drive in this state,” I hear Kadence say behind me. My mind doesn’t fight the intrusion and my body sighs at the strength.

“I’ll take her to my room,” Sy’s voice rumbles from his chest.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I hear someone argue, maybe Jesse? But the heaviness of my heart makes it too hard to speak.

“I’ve got her,” he says, still moving forward.

“You need to take it easy on her,” another voice orders but I don’t hear his reply. My body gives up the fight and my eyes become heavy. The only comfort I feel is two strong arms holding me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Sy

I pull up at the dark, empty parking lot and cut my bike’s engine. I haven’t been out here in the last few months, but no matter how long it’s been, it never gets easier. In the begi

“Hey, baby girl,” I greet her as I place her favorite daisies down. “Sorry I haven’t been back in a while,” I tell her, brushing stray leaves off the marble headstone. Fall is here reminding me of another Christmas I have to get through without her. After cleaning up the area, I sit back on the cool grass in front of her. I wasn't sure coming here tonight when I was hurting so much would be wise, but now I'm here, I know I made the right decision.

“I miss you, Keira,” I say, looking up at the same stars that have always been here. I sit in silence, ru

“I hope you're doing good up there, baby.” I close my eyes and breathe in what I imagine her reply would be. Something about how she is having a wonderful time and how much she misses me.

She always had this upbeat attitude, always finding the good in everything. When she lost her hair with the aggressive chemotherapy, she still found a positive to it. Telling her mom and me that now all the pretty hairbands she loved to wear wouldn’t get lost under her thick dark curls. She wore those headbands with pride, not caring that her bald head represented a sickness that was going to kill her. Instead, she showed the world that even though her body was failing her, she was still going to do everything a seven-year-old girl wanted to do.

“What did I ever do to deserve this?” I roar up at the sky in anger, reliving those memories. I’m not expecting an answer to my question, no one ever replies. I learnt a long time ago that grief never goes away. I’ll always live in two worlds: the world that was with Keira and the world today. And the only way to survive is to find a balance between both. I thought I had been balancing the two well, but now—now I don't even know where my head is.

I just know tonight I want to live in Keira’s world, the one that holds no answers or happy endings; just memories of my daughter, some beautiful, some heartbreaking. I know I’ll find it hard to come back. I always do. Only now, it's made harder with both worlds filled with loss. Resting back into the cold dew of the late night grass, I let the grief of the past and the grief of the present wash over me. I know I need to go to Holly, see if she’s okay, but I can’t. Right now isn't about Holly; it's about me. So I lie at the foot of my daughter's grave and mourn the loss of two children. I let the years of pent-up tears fall. I let the anger ru

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Holly

Guilt and grief are my only friends. One weighs heavy on my heart while the other mocks me from afar.

“Holly, are you okay?” Doctor Elliot asks, pulling me from my i

“Yeah, I’m good.” I readjust my hands, looking back up. That's the second time in the last thirty minutes I’ve drifted off into my head—drifted off remembering Sy’s words.

“Want to try that again?” She smiles, seeing past my bullshit.

“I’m getting there,” I admit, and it’s the truth. Finally having the truth out there isn’t as daunting as what I thought it would be.

“So, as I was asking, have you heard from him?” she repeats the dreaded question.

“Not since that night. I’m giving him some time.” She gives a simple nod, no compassion in her eyes. It’s been a week since that night at the clubhouse. After Sy smashed my window to get me out of the car, he carried me back to his room. The panic attack that hit was one of the worst ones I’ve experienced. I wouldn’t have driven off since I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. It was as if my body was shutting down because the whole situation was just too much. He didn't say anything as he held me through the uncontrollable sobs that racked through my body knowing that my secret was out. I wanted to talk, wanted to tell him how sorry I was, but the words wouldn't come. I could sense his anger as he held me from behind on his bed, and I didn't blame him for it, but I didn't understand why he was holding me with tenderness when I knew he didn't want to. He didn't want to hold me in that moment, but he did. He held me until I fell asleep and then I woke up alone in his bed the next day. I didn't know where he was or if he was coming back, so I left, wanting to gather myself together properly before I saw him again.

“Have you tried to talk to him?”

“No,” I answer, wishing I could talk to him. Each day gets harder not hearing from him.

“Why is that?” she asks, not giving up.

“I don’t know. Maybe from fear of rejection?” I shrug, unsure I understand my concerns. I think it's fear, fear of what he will say. Fear he might dismiss what we’ve lost.

“Fear?” she asks, looking up, her interest piqued.

“Fear of his anger.”

“Do you think Sy is angry?” She asks the question that’s been weighing me down from the moment I served up the hidden truth.

“I know he is.” Of course, he is angry. I kept something from him. Something huge. Even if he held me and let me mourn our child, he is angry.

“Why would he be angry?”

“Why do you ask all these questions?” I deflect, but she expects it, so she waits patiently for me to answer. “Fine. He’s angry because I couldn’t trust him with the truth when I should have. He’s mad because I hid it, pushed him away.” She nods, writing more shit down in her stupid book.