Trust Issues

Chapter 14

I didn't come out of our suite at all the next day. Or the next. I had indeed shut down, had retreated into myself. I had sunk back into that pit of nothingness, the undertow sucking me down before I could breathe. I didn't sleep. I hardly ate or drank and didn't speak to anyone.

Mom came in every so often with trays of bubble tea and shrimp, which, for the most part, went untouched on the table beside our bed. It was an effort to draw breath, never mind eat or drink.

Whenever I rallied myself and placed a piece of shrimp in my mouth or took a drink of tea, I imagined Raina's lifeless body and the eyes that would never open again—the mouth that would never smile or laugh again. That quickly took away any shred of an appetite.

I hadn't cried since before we'd found her. Where all those tears and anger and heartache had been... There was an empty hole in their place. Jonah always came in late at night when I was already asleep. Or so he thought. I hadn't slept since we'd found her. The lack of sleep was quickly taking its toll.

I was sluggish all the time now, my movements slow and clumsy. I felt permanently stuck in the "depression" stage of the grief process. It had even affected my appearance.

My hair hung limp on my shoulders, framing my hollow expression. I had been in the same dress for three days simply because I couldn't rally the energy to get out of bed. I spent my days watching the sun rise over the water, progress through the sky, and promptly set in the evening. On the morning of the third day, I heard a knock on the suite door.

I blinked, turning my head toward the sound. I wasn't sure I remembered how to smile—wondered if it had become as foreign as laughter. When the door opened and shut, I heard a soft voice. "Faye? It's Aunt Izzy."

My expression didn't so much as shift, nor did I open my mouth to respond. Curly black hair appeared in my vision first, followed by a face lined with concern. As Aunt Izzy swam inside, I immediately saw the bundle in her arms, the little fist poking out from beneath the blankets.

She silently swam into our bedroom, eyes scanning my face. Wordlessly, I gazed down at Elle, watching that tiny face scrunch up—that little fist clench—as she fussed in her sleep, then relax as she calmed down. We both stared at her daughter for several moments, a comfortable silence between us.

When she finally spoke, her voice broke. "Bella told us about Waverly. Honey, I'm so sorry." After a beat, she added, almost hesitantly, "And about Raina, too."

I waited several moments before trying to speak. Waited for me to feel something. Anything. "I don't sleep anymore. I haven't since..." My voice trailed off, my heart clenching as I swallowed hard. Aunt Izzy nodded at my unspoken words. "Every time I close my eyes, I see her."

My voice had no emotion whatsoever; it was empty and hollow. "It was my fault." Voicing those words felt like stabbing myself in the chest. "I should have anticipated this. After Waverly, I should have realized that Zander wouldn't stop. That he would keep going until he broke me irreparably. I just hadn't expected... this. I don't feel anything anymore. I forgot what it feels like to smile or laugh.

"I haven't gotten out of bed in three days. Mom comes in every so often with trays of shrimp and bubble tea, but it's an effort to even draw breath, never mind eat or drink. Whenever I rally myself to take a bite or a sip, I see Raina's face.

"I imagine her lifeless body, the eyes that will never open again—the mouth that will never smile or laugh again. That quickly takes away any shred of an appetite. I haven't cried since we found her. Where all those tears and anger and heartache were... There's an empty hole in their place now."

My chest was heaving, my lungs working overtime to pull in water and push it out. I knew that if I stopped trying to breathe, I wouldn't start again. Elle was silent in her mother's arms now, those big, beautiful eyes blinking as she looked from Aunt Izzy to me.