s h e

chapter twenty-three

"Melanie?" Joey's voice is soft, gentle, like he's scared of spooking you, like you're some sort of wild animal.

"She's here, I know she is. She wouldn't have left." Link whispers.

Their words echo in this empty flat of yours. And now it's just yours, isn't it? Now that Winnie's gone?

The alcohol is making your head pound.

"Mels, I know you're in here. Please say something."

"Lincoln Caise," you drawl, giggling at the southern accent your voice takes on.

"Boy, she's drunk," Joey throws one of your arms around his shoulder, Lincoln taking the other.

"Mels, what happened?" Link is gentle, too gentle. Too much like Winnie. The smile drops from your face.

"She's gone, Link. And you know what? Fuck her. Fuck her for leaving." You don't feel so good. Too sober. Too serious.

"You don't mean that, Mels." Link murmurs, rubbing your back.

You take a shaky breath. "But I want to. I want to mean it so much."

"I know, Melly." Link looks like he's in pain. "I know.

You break down.

Sobs rack your body, leaving you to choke on tears. You can't breathe.

"Melanie, I need you to breathe for me, alright? In four, hold four, out four, okay? One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Good, Mel, you're doing great." Winnie's method to calm you down. It's not working without her there to hold your hand.

You're mildly aware of your surroundings, but right now all you can focus on are pieces of memories from tonight.

The job. The club. The girl with the green pixie cut. The explosion. Winnie's eyes filled with tears.

Everything is fragmented. You don't think you'll ever be whole again.

So you start to analyze. You go back to this morning in your mind to see where it all went wrong.
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It's been three weeks since the ball and you feel like you're living a completely different life.

You wake up, and you're in love with Winnie. You eat breakfast and stare at her dreamily as she belts out songs from her favorite musicals while making waffles. You go to work and pray for her to text you. You come home and help her cook dinner, waiting for the moment when your hands touch. You snuggle into her side at night, watching movies on the couch.

It's a little bit surreal.

"MELLY!" The blonde girl races into your bedroom, cell phone in hand as she wraps herself around you (not that you're complaining).

"Winnie...?" Because it is a bit unusual for her to be this perky.

"I just got a call from one of my friends I caught up with at Talia's thing. She can't sing at this bar opening tonight because she has laryngitis, so she asked if I could take her place!"