Dear Emma

chapter 33 || kai

listen to: Meet Me At Our Spot by The Anxiety & Willow 

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Once the Jensens' drop me home, I'm tackled by my little brother. Even though he's only an inch taller than me at 11, he's able to take me to the ground.

"Don't you ever leave me like that again," he says, pinning me to the floor.

"Hey squirt," I chuckle, ruffling his hair. "How you been?"

Mom comes over and pulls Recce off of me, extending a hand, which I use to pull myself off the ground. Immediately, I'm pulled into a hug and I melt into my mother's arms.

"The real question is, how have you been?" she asks, releasing me from her grip. Recce looks at me with a face of concern, and my chest pangs a bit. I didn't know what hell I was putting my family through- I forgot they lost Emma too, and they almost lost me.

"I'm good." My mom gives me a pointed look. "Really, I am. I miss Em like crazy, but it doesn't hurt as much as it used to," I tell her truthfully.

"I'm proud of you. I know it wasn't easy. But I'm proud." I smile, giving her a kiss on the cheek. After catching up on the last few weeks, I head upstairs, ready for a peaceful night in my own bed.

But I stop in my tracks when I see the guest room. I haven't been in there since Emma died and I was the one who found her in the bathroom, on the ground lifeless. Anytime I attempted to go in, I lost my shit and spiraled into a panic attack that turned into a full breakdown. The first time it happened, I thought I was dying and when I didn't, I almost wished I was so I wouldn't have to face my reality.

I drop my stuff on the ground and push open the door so slowly you think there's a ghost I didn't want to disturb. I take a step inside, taking in the room. It looks exactly the same- not a pillow out of place. The shades are open, a sight that wasn't there when Emma inhabited the room. The picture frames on the dresser that once held some of our best memories are now empty, and the guest towels are carefully folded and placed at the foot of the bed. Any reminder of what happened here has been erased completely.

Taking a deep breath, I walk over to the bathroom and open the door with my eyes closed. I half expect to see Emma on the floor when I open my eyes, but I am instantly relieved when there is nothing there but clean tile. Just like the rest of the room, not a thing is out of place.

It's no longer the place where Emma died and I found her. It's just a room. A room for temporary people who are just passing by before their final destination.

My breathing starts to pick up and I make my way out of the guest room, heading to my own room before the panic sets in. The pressure on my chest doesn't go away, but it doesn't build either, and I'm thankful. It's been a long time since I had to deal with my emotions by myself- First, it was the alcohol and then my group was there when the alcohol wasn't. I can't let myself slip into old habits within 24 hours of being alone; what a waste that would be.

Throwing my luggage in my room, I dig my journal out from my bag. I used to hate this thing, but it's a source of comfort now. In an odd way, it makes me feel less alone. I look around my room for a place to sit, and although there are a variety of chairs in my room, none of them feel right. None of them have the essence of what makes journaling therapeutic.

There's only one place where it feels safe to share my mind, only one place I could freely write whatever it is I needed to. My feet could take me there with my eyes closed.