Losing Hope

Her lips begin to tremble and she pulls her arms up, crossing them over her eyes. “Get off me,” she whispers.



My heart sinks, not knowing what I did wrong. I’ve done everything I could to make this right but it’s obviously gone wrong somewhere and I have no idea where. I sit up on my knees and scoot away from her just as a violent sob breaks from her. She twists away from me and hugs her arms, covering herself. “Please,” she cries.



“Sky, I stopped,” I say, stroking her arm. She pushes my hand away with her own and her whole body starts to shake. Her lips are moving and she’s speaking under her breath, but I can’t hear what she’s saying. I lean forward to try and hear what she’s trying to tell me.



“Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one . . .”



She’s counting in rapid succession and crying hysterically, curling herself into a ball on my mattress.



“Sky!” I say louder, trying to get her to stop. I don’t know what the hell is wrong or what I did but this isn’t her and it’s starting to freak me out. She’s responding like I’m not even here. I try to pull her arm away from her eyes so she’ll look at me, but she starts slapping my hand away, crying hysterically.



“Dammit, Sky!” I yell, frantic. I pull on her arm again but she’s fighting it. I don’t know what to do or why she won’t snap out of this, so I scoop her up into my arms and pull her against my chest. She’s still counting and crying and I think I might be on the verge of crying, too, because she’s losing it and I have no idea how to help her. I rock her back and forth and brush the hair from her face, trying to get her to snap out of it, but she just continues to cry. I pull the sheet up and wrap it around us, then kiss her on the side of her head. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, at a loss for what to do next.



Her eyes flick open and she looks up at me, her whole being consumed with fear. “I’m sorry, Sky,” I say, still not knowing what went wrong or why she’s terrified of me right now. “I’m so sorry.”



I continue to rock her, still not understanding what’s causing her reaction, but I’ve never seen eyes so terrified before and I have no fucking clue how to calm her down.



“What happened?” she cries, still looking at me with eyes full of fear.



She completely checked out and she doesn’t even remember doing it?



“I don’t know,” I tell her, shaking my head. “You just started counting and crying and shaking and I kept trying to get you to stop, Sky. You wouldn’t stop. You were terrified. What did I do? Tell me, because I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry. What the fuck did I do?”



She shakes her head, unable to answer me. It kills me that I don’t know if I did something wrong to force her so far into her own head that she lost her grasp on reality.



I squeeze my eyes shut and press my forehead to hers. “I’m so sorry. I never should have let it go that far. I don’t know what the hell just happened, but you’re not ready yet, okay?”



She nods, still holding on to me tightly. “So we didn’t . . . we didn’t have sex?” she asks timidly.



My heart sinks because I realize with those words that no matter what I try to do to protect her, there’s something tearing her apart. She completely checked out like I’ve never experienced before and there was nothing in my power I could do to stop it. I bring my hands to her cheeks. “Where’d you go, Sky?”



She looks at me confused and shakes her head. “I’m right here. I’m listening.”



“No, I mean earlier. Where’d you go? You weren’t here with me because no, nothing happened. I could see on your face that something was wrong, so I didn’t do it. But now you need to think long and hard about where you were inside that head of yours, because you were panicked. You were hysterical and I need to know what it was that took you there so I can make sure you never go back.”



I squeeze her tight, then kiss her on the forehead. I know she probably needs to regain her bearings right now, so I stand up and pull on my jeans and T-shirt, then help her back into her dress. “I’ll go get you some water. I’ll be right back.” I lean forward, not sure if she even wants me near her right now, but I kiss her on the lips to reassure her.



I walk out of my room and head straight down to the kitchen. As soon as my elbows meet the countertop, I bury my face in my arms and muster up every ounce of willpower in me to stop myself from breaking down. I inhale several deep breaths, exhaling even bigger ones, hoping I can stay strong for her. But seeing her that helpless and knowing there was nothing I could do to help her?



It’s the most disappointed in myself I’ve ever been.



Chapter Thirty-eight



I’m still leaning on the counter with my head in my hands when I hear a door close upstairs. I’ve been down here for several minutes now and I don’t want her to think I’m trying to avoid her, so I head back upstairs. I check the bedroom and bathroom, but she’s not in either. I look at Les’s bedroom door and pause before reaching down and turning the knob.



She’s sitting on Les’s bed, holding a picture. “What are you doing?” I ask her. I don’t know why she’s in here. I don’t want to be in here and I want her to come back to my room with me.



“I was looking for the bathroom,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry. I just needed a second.”



I nod, since I apparently needed a second, too. I look around the room. I haven’t set foot in here since the day I found the notebook. Her jeans are still in the middle of the floor, right where she left them.



“Has no one been in here? Since she . . .”



“No,” I say, not wanting to hear her finish that sentence. “What would be the point of it? She’s gone.”



She nods, then places the picture back down on the nightstand. “Was she dating him?”



Her question throws me for a second, then I realize she must have seen a picture of Les and Grayson together. I never told her they dated. I should have told her.



I step into the bedroom for the first time in over a year. I walk to the bed and take a seat next to her. I slowly scan the room, wondering why my mom and I thought it would be a better idea to just close the door after she died, rather than get rid of her things. I guess neither of us is ready to let her go just yet.



I glance at Sky and she’s still looking at the picture frame on Les’s nightstand. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her to me. She brings a hand to my chest and clenches my shirt in her fist.



“He broke up with her the night before she did it,” I say, giving her an explanation. I don’t really want to talk about it, but the only other thing left to talk about is what just happened in my bed and I know Sky more than likely needs a little more time before we bring that up.



“Do you think he’s the reason why she did it? Is that why you hate him so much?”



I shake my head. “I hated him before he broke up with her. He put her through a lot of shit, Sky. And no, I don’t think he’s why she did it. I think maybe it was the deciding factor in a decision she had wanted to make for a long time. She had issues way before Grayson ever came into the picture. So no, I don’t blame him. I never have.” I grab her hand and stand up, because I honestly don’t want to talk about it. I thought I could, but I can’t. “Come on. I don’t want to be in here anymore.”



I take her hand and she stands up, then we walk toward the door. She yanks her hand free once I reach the door, so I turn around. She’s staring at a picture of me and Les when we were kids.



She’s smiling at the picture, but my pulse immediately quickens when I realize that she’s seeing me and Les as children. She’s seeing us in the exact way she used to know us. I don’t want her to remember. If she were to have even the slightest recollection right now, she might start asking questions. The last thing she needs after the breakdown she just had is to find out the truth.



She squeezes her eyes shut for a few seconds and the look on her face kicks my pulse up a notch. “You okay?” I ask, attempting to pull the picture out of her hands. She immediately snatches it back and looks up at me.



It’s the first sign of recognition I’ve seen on her face and it feels like my entire body is wilting.



I manage to take a step toward her, but she immediately takes a step back. She keeps looking at the picture, then back up to me and I just want to grab the frame and throw it across the fucking room and pull her out of here, but I have a feeling it’s too late.



Her hand goes up to her mouth and she chokes back a sob. She looks up at me like she wants to say something, but she can’t speak.



“Sky, no,” I whisper.



“How?” she says achingly, looking back down at the picture. “There’s a swing set. And a well. And . . . your cat. It got stuck in the well. Holder, I know that living room. The living room is green and the kitchen had a countertop that was way too tall for us and . . . your mother. Your mother’s name is Beth.” Her rush of words come to a pause and she darts her eyes back up to mine. “Holder?” she says, sucking in a breath. “Is Beth your mother’s name?”



Not tonight, not tonight. God, she doesn’t need this tonight. “Sky . . .”



She looks at me, heartbroken. She rushes past me and across the hall, into the bathroom, where she slams the door behind her. I follow after her and try to open the door but she’s locked it.



“Sky, open the door. Please.”



Nothing. She doesn’t open the door and she says nothing.



“Baby, please. We need to talk and I can’t do it from out here. Please, open the door.”



Another moment passes without her opening the door. I grip the edges of the doorframe and wait. It’s too late to backtrack now. All I can do is wait until she’s ready to hear the truth.



The door swings open and she’s looking at me, her eyes full of anger now rather than fear.



“Who’s Hope?” she says, barely above a whisper.



How do I say it? How do I tell her the answer to that question, because as soon as I do I know I’ll have to watch as her entire world collapses around her.



“Who the hell is Hope?” she says, much louder this time.



I can’t. I can’t tell her. She’ll hate me and that would destroy me.



Her eyes fill with tears. “Is it me?” she asks, her voice barely audible. “Holder . . . am I Hope?”



A rush of breath escapes my lungs and I can feel the tears following. I look up to the ceiling to try to hold them back. I close my eyes and press my forehead against my arm, inhaling the breath that will encase the voice that will release the one word that will destroy her again.



“Yes.”



Her eyes grow wide and she just stands there, slowly shaking her head. I can’t even imagine what must be going through her head right now.



She suddenly shoves past me, out into the hallway. “Sky, wait,” I yell as she descends the steps two at a time. I rush after her, trying to catch her before she leaves. As soon as she hits the bottom step, she collapses to the floor.