The Way I Loved You | Tobias Eaton

seven

    before
    Fallon, age 16
    two years ago

Everything is a blur as I rushed past house after house, desperate to make it home.

My vision was clouded with tears and my heart feels as if it's been ripped from my body, leaving a large gaping wound in my chest that feels like it might never heal.

"Fallon?" My mother calls out as I storm through the front door, not stopping until I make it into my room.

Shifting through the pile of books on my desk, I toss them to the ground in a flurry of hurt and anger until I finally found the one I was searching for.

Flipping over to the dog-eared page in the book- something I usually consider a sin doing, but in this case, I wanted it this way so I could find this page with ease. Because this very page was what changed us. It was what made us more.

Those three little words jump out at me immediately, highlighted by the red ink used to underline them.

As I stared at them I realised the meaning they held to them when everything else is removed. Take away the passion, the sweet gestures and the loving gazes. Take away the person that you've associated them with...and they're nothing more than just words.

Grabbing the stack of yellow Post-It's that were stuck to my wall, I sandwich them between the pages and stomped back out of my room.

"Fallon, honey. What's going on?" The concern in my mother's voice just makes me want to cry harder and I wipe my tears with the back of my sleeve as I continued on my warpath.

Locating the bin in front of our house, I lift its lid and dumped the book inside and slammed it close.

"Fallon," My mother stares at me with worried-filled eyes from our doorway, taking in my tear-stained face. "Sweetheart, it's cold out. Why don't you come inside?"

I take a step forward and before I know it, I kick the door shut behind me and throw myself into my mother's arms.

"Oh, honey," My Mom says sympathetically, "It's okay. It'll be okay."

"He's leaving, Mom." I sob into her shoulder, my words coming out so incoherently I'm surprised my mother is even able to understand what I'm saying, "He's leaving me."

My Mom holds me like this, letting me cry my heart out right there on our living room floor.

"Our first heartbreak is always going to be the one that hurts the most," She says when my sobs finally subside- not because it hurts any less. No. It still hurts like hell. But mostly because I think I've simply run out of tears to cry. "But one way or another, sweetheart, we find ways to move on."

"I thought he was the one," I whisper, "I thought we were going to have forever together."

"I know, sweetheart. I know," My mother strokes my hair gently, "One day, you might look back and realise he was just a chapter in your life that needed to be told. Or maybe years from now you'll still think about him and feel like he was the one that got away. Either way, it hurts now because it mattered."

✵

present

I stood before the sink with my sleeves rolled up to my elbows, scrubbing at the dirty dishes left behind from tonight's dinner.

"How do you feel about your test results?" My mother asks as she watches me clean.

I shrug, "It's only supposed to be a guideline, right? The choice is still mine."

"Well, I'm curious to know what it was." My Mom says, "If you'd be willing to tell me, of course."

I pause mid-scrub, "Does it matter?"

"Not Abnegation, then." My Mom teases, "Got it."

"Mom, I really don't want to talk about it."

She was right, though. I didn't get Abnegation as much as I hoped I would. I wanted to stay here with my mother. She never says anything, but I could tell she's been feeling a little lonely since Dad passed and I wouldn't have the heart to leave her.

But we don't always get what we want in life. Instead, I get Dauntless. Dauntless. And now, I'm left on the verge of an existential crisis.

"Sweetheart," My Mom shuts off the tap, bringing my washing to a halt. "It's okay if you're not Abnegation. No matter where you end up, you'll always be my little girl. And if your Dad were here, he'll be telling you the exact same thing."

"I don't want to leave, Mom."

"You're welcome to stay if that's what you really want, Fallon." She brushes a strand of hair off my face, "All I'm saying is that you don't have to stay, either. Not if you don't want to. The world is your oyster, Fallon. But you'll never experience its wonders if you don't strive for what you want."

Her words ring in my head as I turn back to the sink and go right back to scrubbing the dishes.

"You know, word is that Marcus Eaton's son transferred to-"

"Mom, please." My breath catches at the mere mention of him. Two years. It's been two years and he still has a hold on me. "I don't want to talk about him."

We rarely do in this household. Though, not for the lack of trying on Mom's part. I've been doing a great job tuning out any news regarding him. I didn't want to know what he left me for.

"There's also some gossip going around," My Mom continues on despite my pleas, "Regarding the reason why he transferred."

I swallow, "Sure sounds interesting and all, but I think I'm good with not knowing."

I hurry to put away the plates and rinsed my hands off under the sink before attempting to make my escape.

"They're saying he was abused."

My steps falter at her words and I spin on wobbly feet to face my Mom as if waiting for her to scream, "Ha! Gotcha!" But I knew my mother would joke about such serious matters.

Bile rises in my throat as I think back to the time I've spent with Tobias- memories I've been refusing to revisit since he'd left.

I remember the bruise he was spotting the first time with met. The way he winces when I'll playfully smack him sometimes or if I hugged him too tightly.  Or how he limped slightly sometimes.

Whenever I asked about his injuries he brushes me off and now here I am, leaning over my kitchen sink feeling like I'm about to throw up and kicking myself for not digging more into the matter.

There are things you don't know about. His words ring in my head and I wonder if things would've turned out any different if I'd tried harder to get him to open up to me.