Yours Truly, Ramona

chapter thirty three | tragedy.

"It doesn't always feel like that."

"I'm just trying to help you, sweetheart," he says with a shake of his head. "I'm really worried about you."

His eyes pierce deep under my skin, and they crawl and bite at me as I remember what I've planned to do today.

What I'm planning to do when I leave this house is selfish. It's unspeakable, and it's heartbreaking—for me and for the people I'm leaving behind. That is, if they even care.

But as I stare at Owen's electric green eyes, taking in the lines of compassion and trust that go along with them, I remember that he has no idea. He doesn't know that I'm not going to school today. I'm not going to sleep tonight. I'll be in a body bag by the end of the hour, if everything goes as planned.

And just the thought of that makes me panic a little bit more than I already was. It's real. It's happening. And as much as I always thought I was ready for this day, I feel myself wanting to pull back.

I want to hear something that might make me think twice, even though my plan is set in stone. I want to stay, but it's going to hurt so badly if I do.

"Why? Why do you even bother?"

My words make Owen stand up straighter, and he approaches me with an outstretched arm and a steady gaze.

"Because you're angry all the time. You never talk about what's on your mind."

"Should I?" I scoff as I use my attitude to distract myself from my growing vulnerability. "Because you're not my dad."

Owen stops in front of me and lowers his hand at my jabbing words. It's impossible for me to tell if I truly hurt him or not, mainly because I can't bring myself to look him in the eyes. If he's hurt, I can't tell. And that might just make what I'm about to do much easier.

I can't look into his eyes, because seeing the desperation in him will only make this harder. I feel so guilty. I feel so ashamed of what I'm about to do once I walk out of his house. He'll never forgive me. But I can't help it, because I've been in so much pain for far too long.

"That's not the point," he states before shaking off whatever emotion he was holding. "I'm trying to tell you, Ramona, that if you hold in what you're feeling and what's hurting you, it's only gonna tear you apart."

His words bring familiar tingles and stings to my eyes, and I back away from him the instant I see him step closer to me. My eyes grow glassy and wide while my throat suppresses a knot that's threatening to constrict my ability to take proper breaths.

"It already has."

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

He stops talking and pauses once he realizes he's not going to get anywhere with me. He almost looks frustrated as he stares directly at me, and I watch him lean against the marble countertop as he analyzes my battle against my glassy eyes.

"Well, last night you said something about your parents. Why'd you bring them up?"

"I was high. I didn't know what I was saying," I push out before vigorously swallowing in an attempt to rid my throat of the painful knot.

"Jean only told me that your parents went to prison for drug charges. Is there something I don't know about? Is there something she doesn't know about?"

There's plenty you don't know about, I want to throw back.

But I keep my mouth shut, knowing it's better this way. It's better to keep it to myself, where I can push it down and pretend it isn't real.