The City | GirlxGirl

twenty nine ➳

Skylar heard him. She heard the desperation, the loneliness, the aching and the pain. Four years of hurt, resting heavily upon weak shoulders. She heard it all, and saw it in the single tear that left his green eyes.

Jude's presence was weighty beside her. Suddenly, Skylar didn't feel safe. She felt like the walls were closing in on her. Gasping for air, she counted the number of times her chest rose and fell, growing faster with every breath. One, two, three, four, five, six...

If either Mack or Jude noticed her onslaught of panic, neither said anything.

She wanted to forgive him. She believed everything he said. Forgiveness was sitting there, in the centre of the table, waiting for her to reach out and take it. But she couldn't. And she wanted to forgive Jude. She wanted to be with Jude. But everything was so messy, and if she forgave her it would only become messier, and she didn't think her mind, nor her heart, could take another hurricane right now. She was devoid of energy. At least, energy to give to other people.

So instead of saying I forgive you, I love you, please stay in my life from now on, she said: "Get out."

And only added to the hurt collapsing on Mack, burying him in the blood of others from the wounds he inflicted. This was all his fault.

She heard herself saying the words she didn't want to say.

"Get out. I didn't want you to come-can't you tell by me constantly declining your phone calls? I've made a huge effort not to talk to you, Mack. Don't you understand why?" Skylar crossed her arms over her chest. Unable to control her anger. Letting the hurricane run wild, obstructing everyone in its path. "Because you killed my girlfriend. And amongst that, you get to live your life. You get to live freely, because you weren't found guilty in your trial, even though everyone-especially you-knows you killed Logan.

"And you," said Skylar, turning to face Jude. She seemed to shrink in size, allowing herself to be swallowed by Skylar's harsh glare, harsh tone, harsh words. "I've done the same to you. I'm ignoring you for a reason, Jude. So can you stop fucking calling me? I'm so sick of both of you. You're putting so much weight on me, asking me to forgive the senseless things you both did. You're criminals. How can you expect me to forgive you?" Skylar stopped, licked her lips-a family habit, apparently-and took a deep breath. The walls were so close to caving in on her. "I told you before. And I'll tell you again. I hate you, Jude. Okay? I hate you. So please, don't come here again. Stop calling me. I don't want either of you in my fucked up life."

Silence.

And then, "I take full responsibility for that."

Skylar raised her eyebrows at Mack. "What?"

"I take full responsibility for your life. For it being fucked up, as you said."

He was breaking. Skylar was breaking him. Over and over again. And yet she heard herself say, "I wasn't asking you to take responsibility. I'm asking you to leave me alone, so I can deal with what you did to me in peace. Is that too much to ask?"

Mack swallowed. He glanced at Jude, who nodded her head towards the door. Jude, small, but tough. Jude, always pretending to be strong. Jude, hearing the girl she likes tell her-again-that she hates her. Jude, wiping away a few tears as she pushes her chair backwards, exits the house with Mack in tow, and doesn't looks back.

Small but mighty, indeed.

Skylar wished she could be like that. Because the minute that the door shut gently behind Mack, she broke down. Sobs that had been caught in her throat for months were unleashed, and in a matter of seconds, she was falling apart.

Everything was wrong. That had been her chance to make it right. But she just couldn't. There was something inside of her that was so reluctant, and so powerful, that it controlled her. Did she want to be stuck in this state forever? Ignoring her brother, remembering Logan, hating Jude? She knew the answer to that question was NO. And yet she couldn't bring herself to say it.

In twenty minutes, Blair was there, sitting in the same chair that Jude had been in. Her arms wrapped around Skylar, a strong grip, as if she was afraid the girl was about to fall at any moment. Skylar felt it, too. She feared slipping, losing herself, and falling completely. She didn't know where she'd land. But she knew it wouldn't be good.

"Tell me everything," Blair whispered. "Everything."

Skylar rested her head on the blonde's shoulder. Trembling, she said, "First, I want you to promise me that you'll tell Jude to move out. I know you and her are friends. You're so strong for doing that-so much stronger than I am. But I can't come to your apartment every day and see her. I don't want to see her again. And she needs to get back on her own feet. I know that she's hurting, too. She needs to find her own place, to figure out who she is without anyone else to tell her."

Blair was surprised, and nearly pointed out the genuine concern that Skylar had for Jude. Concern and care, mixed together with hatred and anger.

But as Skylar told Blair everything-about Mack's visit, about her wanting to forgive and be with Jude, but not being able to, and not even being able to explain why-Blair understood this confusing concoction of feelings.

"You need to take a few weeks, Skylar. Sort yourself out. For real, this time. You can't keep living like this. Logan is gone. Forget your feelings for her. Forget what Mack did to her. Remember that he is your family. Remember that you want to forgive him. You need to make yourself, to push yourself in the right direction. And move on from Logan. Date someone else. It doesn't have to be Jude right now."

"But eventually."

"Eventually." Blair smiled. "She'll be waiting for you when you're ready."

Those words scared Skylar. What if by the time Skylar was ready, Jude was gone? And she didn't mean gone as in moved on to someone else. She meant gone as in Logan, gone.

But they still provided comfort. Blair stayed the night, making herself comfortable on the couch in the living room. Skylar tried to collect herself as she made her way up the stairs and into her bedroom, but found it too difficult. She was broken glass, and by trying to fix herself, she was only making herself bleed.