Sincerely, Emily ✓

21 • Anytime, Princess

IT HAD BEEN right in front of me.

Now that I realised what her true intentions were, it was easy to pick out the clues that she left behind. 

The gifts that Mom and I bought for the Grants, even though she never bought gifts and had made an exception for them; the doctor's appointment where she didn't show up, but Oliver and Raph did; when she allowed me to play baseball with Ollie and the others, knowing that I was already stumbling and still had let me go. 

There were so many others. Her agreeing to Jake, Raph and Jessie to be my homeschool teachers. All those times where Mom and I could've gone out together with the Grant family. And then the latest one — when she'd asked me what I thought of the Grants. At that time, I just thought she was curious. But was she really confirming, so she could plan her last move?

Was all these just her trying to make me get closer to the Grants? Her being afraid of facing the truths about my disease? Did she go through all these lengths, really, to avoid looking at me?

And the more I got sicker, the more I realised she wasn't around a lot. She just. . . vanished. I'd never really payed attention to it, and even if I did, I wouldn't make a big deal out of it. I'd be completely oblivious.

When that door closed shut, I didn't go back and sleep. I just sat there, in front of the kitchen, realising that I would be alone for a week. Slowly, yet surely, dying.

Without my own mother.

Even when Oliver visited me later and asked what was wrong, I just stared off in the distance. It was already bright and sunny, but my mind kept reeling back to the words she'd said. Oliver kept on forgiving me, but I wasn't even mad at him anymore.

I felt nothing.

________

The door swung opened, and I was greeted by a stranger's pitiful smile.

It was still August, which meant that Cromwell High was still on break. Tommy was the only one who was going to go back to school — he was still a freshman when he entered, anyway. Time really did flew by.

I wasn't really focusing as to what Mrs. Grant was saying, because ever since I walked out of that doctor's appointment, away from that hospital smell, I kept thinking about the things that were in the plastic bag, carried by Jake. Antidepressants and anti-anxiety medication.

Dr. Grey gave me antidepressants and anti-anxiety medication.

I was honestly offended. Did he not trust me to keep it together? Receiving it just made my mood more darker than it should be. And even if I needed it — which I didn't — did he really think a couple of pills would fix whatever was broken inside of me?

I wasn't going to take it.

"You're taking it," Oliver said, frowning. Did I just say that out loud? While blinking?

"WHATEVER."

The car ride home was quiet, the silence weighing on our shoulders. I wouldn't be able to talk, anyway; I wasn't in my wheelchair, therefore I wasn't wearing my glasses and the Talk Phone was out of reach.

Things got tense when news about my mother leaving travelled fast in the Mayfair neighbourhood. Then one of the Grants probably told Dr. Grey. All without my permission.