Author's Note

Chapter 11 - Leaving (Finally)

The bus ride home was long. I remember the confused look Charlotte gave me, so worried, so lost. But there was no way to explain, no way I could've. At this point, I was too scared to even admit it to myself, what I had to do.

I had bolted out of McDonalds at my realisation, leaving her alone at the table with my untouched food, wondering what on earth was going on. Some friend I was. To this day, I still don't know what she did, what happened. Charlie never told me. I think Charlie probably hated me in that moment. Hell, I hated me.

Memories of the day before flashed through my head, reminders of everything she had done for me. At the hospital, in the car, she had tried to help me so badly and all I ever did was brush her off, push her away, tell her no, that I was independent, that I didn't need help. Even though I knew I did. Charlotte deserved a better friend, no one deserved a friend like me. Selfish. I blocked out those memories, they were too much, all of this was too much. I couldn't breathe, it hurt to breathe.

My phone said it was only half past twelve. My phone said I had three missed calls. My head said I should go back. My heart said I should give up.

It's ridiculous, isn't it? What people always say about following your heart, all that. I hate it when they say it, it's so disgustingly cheesy, and a lot of the time, so disgustingly wrong. What if your significant other cheated on you? Your heart would tell you to go back to them, and your head would tell you to stay away. At times like that, it's better to follow your mind. Following your heart only ever ends in aching. And so I didn't, I didn't follow my heart. Perhaps everything would've been easier if I had, if I'd just stopped writing. But I don't think that's how it works, I think I would've been stuck in a loop of seeing them every night until I began writing again.

I didn't follow my heart, but I sure as hell didn't follow my head either. I followed the bus route home, feeling numb, only numb, always numb, and fell into my bed, pain consuming me.

My leg still ached.

Mum was at work. Who the hell ever knew where my dad was? I was alone in my house, and while that was possibly the worst thing for me right then, I needed it. Maybe being with people could've helped to cheer me up, but I didn't deserve cheering up, I didn't deserve anything but the pain that I felt.

I ran through the plan in my book hastily, all in my head, picturing everything that had happened and everything that was to happen. Granted I had barely written anything, I had only written a chapter and a half, but our books were supposed to be short, not full length novels. I couldn't imagine having to mark so many of those. Running through the plan, thinking, thinking, hoping there was another way, that I didn't have to do it.

Please don't make me do it.

But everything was planned out, and this... this thing was such an important part in the book, such an important plot point that I just couldn't, I couldn't, I couldn't. I couldn't avoid it no matter how badly I wanted to. My teacher had already read my plot, anyway, I doubt she'd just let it slip, just let me miss out such a point.

I had to do it.

I know you're going to hate me when it happens. I know you're going to absolutely despise me, think that I could've avoided it, that I should've tried harder.

I know it because you're right. Every time I look back on it, I could've done things differently, I could've changed something, anything.

Just to keep that one star with me. I miss it. More than anything.

Though I would've lost it eventually, wouldn't I? The book would've ended anyway. Books always do. But maybe I could've made our parting less painful, less like being ripped apart.