couldn’t be bothered to stop them. No matter how much I wanted to hate Harry, my heart wouldn’t let me. I was angry and I wanted to kick his balls, but I didn’t hate him. Why can’t I hate him? It would make life so much easier.
I didn’t know how long I stared at the sea whilst crying my eyes out. This was the first time since Tristan’s death that I had gone this close to the shore. I couldn’t really do it before. I somehow felt like I was betraying my brother’s memory if I allowed myself to enjoy the sea. Tristan was my champion, he looked out for me and in return, I worshipped my brother. He was the perfect son, and we all felt his loss. I missed him dearly. At times like these, I wished he was still alive to tell me what to do, to tell me that it’ll be okay.
Life had a twisted and weird sense of humor. It makes you yearn for things, makes you fall in love, but it’s diabolical because it never fails to betray you. It stabs you in the back when you’re not anticipating it. Love kills. The love of surfing killed Tristan. Love killed me— inside . Death gnawed inside me, until there was nothing left except emptiness.
I got up and carefully dipped my foot in the water
. I was delighted that
, it felt warm
on my toes
. Out of the blue, I had this crazy urge to go swimming. With my dress on, I paced until the water engulfed half of my body. I huffed out a brave sigh and dived underwater. It was murky as I swam deeper, until it was pitch black. I stopped swimming and slowly looked up to see if I could see any light from the moon, there was none. Darkness surrounded me. So, I swam a little further out until it was hard to continue. It was odd, but it gave me comfort.
The tight , heaviness of my chest told me that I needed to swim back up to get some air, but the darkness called upon me, soothing me, a complete balm to my shattered soul. It slowly pulled me downwards… drawing me in … calling me.
I suddenly felt at peace.
The nagging voices in my head stopped. They couldn’t torture me anymore.
My mind shut off, rendering it blank. Empty. I think I formed a ghost of a smile before I utterly surrendered to it.
Chapter 7
Taylor
Megan . My girlfriend of three years, now an ex, just gave me a missed call. She hung up after one ring. I didn’t know what to make of it. She and I parted amicably—or so I thought. We both decided that it wasn’t working out. That was six months ago.
Without much preamble, I dialed her number. After a few rings, I was sent to voicemail. I killed it before her recorded voice surfaced. She’s been doing this a lot—a few missed calls here and there for the last few months. Each time, she never follows through, never picks up any of my damn calls . I hated how she liked these idiotic mind games! If she needed to speak to me about something, then why play phone-tag?
I suppose, this was Megan’s subtle way to make me not forget her. As annoying as her technique was, it worked brilliantly. “Fucking women!” I grumbled as I chucked my phone on the bed.
It was late, but I didn’t feel tired at all. I contemplated if I should just call it a night or join that hellcat of a woman outside on the patio. It doesn’t take any Freudian ability to see how much baggage that woman carried. She might smile and laugh, but it was insincere. I saw glimpses of tortured pain in those eyes. Reading people was one thing I had always done well. I felt bad about what I said to her earlier, but she had to know I wasn’t trying to hit on her or anything.
I may have thought about it for a second when my eyes first landed on her. Both girls were hot, but for some reason Trista intrigued me more. That instantly took a nosedive when I realized how guarded she was, though.
Wanting to take my mind off everyone, I looked for my iPad. I could do with a good suspense book to pass the time, but it was nowhere to be found. I suddenly remembered I left it on the outdoor canopy bed this
I didn’t know how long I stared at the sea whilst crying my eyes out. This was the first time since Tristan’s death that I had gone this close to the shore. I couldn’t really do it before. I somehow felt like I was betraying my brother’s memory if I allowed myself to enjoy the sea. Tristan was my champion, he looked out for me and in return, I worshipped my brother. He was the perfect son, and we all felt his loss. I missed him dearly. At times like these, I wished he was still alive to tell me what to do, to tell me that it’ll be okay.
Life had a twisted and weird sense of humor. It makes you yearn for things, makes you fall in love, but it’s diabolical because it never fails to betray you. It stabs you in the back when you’re not anticipating it. Love kills. The love of surfing killed Tristan. Love killed me— inside . Death gnawed inside me, until there was nothing left except emptiness.
I got up and carefully dipped my foot in the water
. I was delighted that
, it felt warm
on my toes
. Out of the blue, I had this crazy urge to go swimming. With my dress on, I paced until the water engulfed half of my body. I huffed out a brave sigh and dived underwater. It was murky as I swam deeper, until it was pitch black. I stopped swimming and slowly looked up to see if I could see any light from the moon, there was none. Darkness surrounded me. So, I swam a little further out until it was hard to continue. It was odd, but it gave me comfort.
The tight , heaviness of my chest told me that I needed to swim back up to get some air, but the darkness called upon me, soothing me, a complete balm to my shattered soul. It slowly pulled me downwards… drawing me in … calling me.
I suddenly felt at peace.
The nagging voices in my head stopped. They couldn’t torture me anymore.
My mind shut off, rendering it blank. Empty. I think I formed a ghost of a smile before I utterly surrendered to it.
Chapter 7
Taylor
Megan . My girlfriend of three years, now an ex, just gave me a missed call. She hung up after one ring. I didn’t know what to make of it. She and I parted amicably—or so I thought. We both decided that it wasn’t working out. That was six months ago.
Without much preamble, I dialed her number. After a few rings, I was sent to voicemail. I killed it before her recorded voice surfaced. She’s been doing this a lot—a few missed calls here and there for the last few months. Each time, she never follows through, never picks up any of my damn calls . I hated how she liked these idiotic mind games! If she needed to speak to me about something, then why play phone-tag?
I suppose, this was Megan’s subtle way to make me not forget her. As annoying as her technique was, it worked brilliantly. “Fucking women!” I grumbled as I chucked my phone on the bed.
It was late, but I didn’t feel tired at all. I contemplated if I should just call it a night or join that hellcat of a woman outside on the patio. It doesn’t take any Freudian ability to see how much baggage that woman carried. She might smile and laugh, but it was insincere. I saw glimpses of tortured pain in those eyes. Reading people was one thing I had always done well. I felt bad about what I said to her earlier, but she had to know I wasn’t trying to hit on her or anything.
I may have thought about it for a second when my eyes first landed on her. Both girls were hot, but for some reason Trista intrigued me more. That instantly took a nosedive when I realized how guarded she was, though.
Wanting to take my mind off everyone, I looked for my iPad. I could do with a good suspense book to pass the time, but it was nowhere to be found. I suddenly remembered I left it on the outdoor canopy bed this
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