Dear Universe, ✔

Epilogue Part One.

Five Years Later...

I look around my childhood room, the heavy feeling of regret and dread crashing down on me as I sit up in my old bed and stretch. I'm not supposed to be here, in this empty room that holds nothing but a bed and an empty dresser. I should be home. I should be in our apartment with Ian, we should be getting ready together - laughing and making breakfast like we always do on Saturday mornings.

I look over to my closet door where my bridesmaid dress is hanging and I feel sick at the thought of seeing Ian today. I really messed up this time and now he doesn't want anything to do with me. Seeing him at the wedding is going to kill me. How am I supposed to stand at the alter by Emma's side while he stands by Colby? How am I supposed to go to a wedding and be that close to him when just six days ago I threw my own engagement ring in his face?

At first, when I packed my bag and left, he called every hour. He came to my parent's house and they almost let him in until I begged them not to. For four days Ian called, texted, and came to the house. He would sit outside for hours, waiting for me to come outside and talk to him - sometimes my parents would sit on the porch and talk with him while he waited and when he would leave, they would come beg me to talk to him. 

I haven't heard from him in two days though. He hasn't called, he hasn't texted, and he hasn't knocked on the door. He's done with me and the worst part is that I can't blame him. I would be done with me too if I were him. 

I don't even know what happened, one minute I was fine and the next it was like a heavy cloud was over me and everything was dark and gloomy. I was laying in our bed with the covers pulled tightly around me and when Ian came in the room after his shower, it was like I realized just how much I didn't deserve him. 

His smile, his sweet words and gestures, his laugh, the way he makes me feel like the most beautiful and special girl in the world. I didn't deserve any of that, I don't give enough in return for all the things he does for me and all the ways he makes me feel. 

So I threw the blankets off me and grabbed a suitcase from the closet. I ignored Ian's questions and started throwing random pieces of clothing into the suitcase. I took off my engagement ring, the beautiful ring he had proposed with just six months ago, and I laid it on the dresser before walking past him and out the door. 

It only took him a second to get past the shock, and then he was running down the stairs and through the lobby after me. When his hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me to a halt, I swallowed every ounce of emotion I had in me and turned to him saying the words I regret more than anything. "It's over, Ian. I don't love you."

Just like he did all those years ago when I told him that same lie, he didn't believe me. He begged me to come back upstairs, to tell him what was going on, to work this out - but I left anyway. 

I left the perfect boy behind and drove to my parents house an hour away. When I got there no one was home, so I went up to my old room and collapsed on the bed. I cried myself to sleep and didn't wake up until my mom came and lay down beside me hours later.

I don't even know why I did it, I regretted it instantly. Part of me still believes that Ian can do so much better than me, but the other part of me knows he loves me. Or loved, I guess is a better word since he hasn't tried to talk to me in two days. 

Sometimes it's like I have no control over my own mind or moods. Dr. White says that my depression is a part of me, but it doesn't feel that way - it feels like it's an intruder and we're two different people fighting to live in the same body. 

My depression isn't about River anymore either, that's what is so hard for me to understand. I thought that once I made amends with myself and God for taking my little brother, that I would be happy again and that things would be okay. I guess life doesn't work that way though, because the sadness didn't go away and neither did the self doubt and thoughts that make me want to crawl into a ball for weeks straight. 

It doesn't happen often, I can go months without feeling like I'm sinking into a hole, detached form the world. When it does hit though, it's like wildfire, spreading so quickly and so harshly that I can't control it, I can't find a way to make it stop. 

Ian makes it stop. 

Ian is always there, picking up on my moods faster than even I do. Ian is the one to wipe the tears, to calm the storm, to pull me back. 

But Ian's gone.