Page 25 of Meet Cute

Even through text I can hear the desperation in his message, and it makes my heart break. I’m sorry, Finn, but I’m incapable of doing anything right. I can’t be better. I’m a horrible friend, and he’s better off without me.

So many other texts are just sitting there. I never actually read any of them until now. It’s probably a good thing I have no friends, honestly.

Can you please reply? I’m worried about you.

If you’re angry with me, I’ll do better. I know it’s annoying but this is making me feel so awful.

Do you think we can be friends? We don’t have to be anything else. If I pushed too hard, I’m genuinely sorry. I was so excited to have you around, maybe I got too ahead of myself. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.

I’m such an asshole. Even I’m disgusted with myself after reading all these texts. I should say something. I don’t want to bother trying to fix it entirely, but I can’t just leave him alone, can I? That would be unbelievably cruel to a man who’s never shown me anything but kindness.

im sorry. its not your fault.

The text is vague as fuck and I know it, but I can’t bring myself to vent to him. I can’t bring myself to rehash things that only hurt me. He starts typing almost immediately, but I set my phone down on the kitchen table.

Tomorrow, none of this will matter. I’ll just be a bad memory that I hope he can forgive eventually. But, hey, if he can’t? What does it matter? I won’t be around to see it anyways.

NINETEEN

One hour. Two hours. Three hours. Time wastes away while I stare at the ceiling. My room has never been this lonely before, or this cold. I feel as though I’m disappearing, slipping away from reality entirely.

And then Chalupa comes to sleep right on my chest.

A sniffle turns into another, and before I know it I’m full on crying while clutching my cat like a last resort. Why couldn’t things go right? Why does my own family hate me?

I wish it could be normal. I wish I could be normal. If things were different—if I were different—none of this would be an issue. My life would be perfectly fine. But I can’t change it. I can’t change any of it.

Chalupa must sense how badly I need him, since he doesn’t move a muscle regardless of how many tears drop onto his fur. I’m going to miss him so much. I’m going to miss everything so much. I don’t want to do this, not really.

Is it crazy to want to live? To make something out of this horrible situation I’ve been placed in? Why is giving up so simple? I know nothing good in life is ever that easy, but why is mine so difficult?

Letting out a soft groan, I sit up. Even when I release him from my clutches Chalupa stays, purring and brushing his little forehead against my arm. So I stay dead still. Not wanting to bother the last thing I have. Just petting and petting this loveable little creature who I almost lost.

There’s the low rumble of a car engine outside, but all I can think about really is that day. That stupid Thanksgiving. The awful things that were said that can’t be unsaid. The lingering feeling of regret knowing it all could’ve been avoided.

Why did I open my big mouth? Why did I try something I knew could only end poorly? I must have watched too many damn movies to think that this could’ve ended any other way, or maybe I was blinded by the thought that my family really did love me after all.

News flash, Duncan, they don’t.

No one has reached out. Not a single relative. I was outcasted in the blink of an eye, and boy does it ever hurt. It’s the worst pain I’ve ever experienced. A gash in my chest that I can’t close. A gash that only gets bigger instead of healing.

I hate it. I hate this.

But worst of all, I hate myself. Hate the person I’ve become. Ignoring texts, wallowing in self pity… it isn’t me. None of this is me, or at least not the person I want to be. It’s not as though my wants have ever been considered by anyone but myself.

I really don’t want to be awake anymore. Laying back down, I force my eyes shut and try to think of anything better than this grim reality I’ve found myself in. It almost works, until—

Thunk.

“Chalupa…” Shooting back up, my eyes search the darkness for whatever my cat knocked over. But I don’t find anything of the sort. Instead there’s a wide figure looming over me at the end of my bed.

Some frightened, shaky noise that I’ve never made before escapes me. I go to fly out of my bed, only to be met by an unfairly strong hand grabbing hold of me and yanking me back. My cat hisses somewhere in the room, but I can’t even process where he is.

“W-Wait, no…!” I can’t even scream before a sharp prick on the neck makes my blood run cold. Weakly attempting to push them off, I take five steps towards the door of my bedroom before the entire world begins to spin.

“S-Sorry,” I swear I hear a panicked voice whisper, “I’m so sorry…”

My body falls forward with the grace of a sack of bricks, but before I collide face-first with the wooden tiling someone catches me. It’s getting harder and harder to keep my eyes open, and there’s this obnoxious ringing in my ears that's only getting louder, and louder…