seven ; walker scobell

chapter thirty three; the bottom

"it's hard to ignore all of my problems, gonna regret being too honest." the bottom ; gracie abrams

THE PAIN HIDING behind my eyes was getting impossible to ignore.

I didn't know how long grief lingered, but for me, it hadn't left. Grief followed me from the moment Marina got into my dad's car that night. It followed me everywhere I went; every state, every country, every thought and feeling. I couldn't escape the thought of her, the guilt I felt.

Dear Marina,

I thought I was happy.

For the first time since you'd passed, I'd gone months without falling into a depression; into a spiral of self hatred, despair and anger. I thought that I'd made it out of the cycle.

It turns out that the cure was only a temporary relief.

Walker saved me. In every way possible. Every thing that I like about myself is down to the existence of him in my life. He's my comfort and my home, but his help can only go so far. I can't rely on him to learn to like myself: that's something I need to learn to feel on my own.

Right now, I couldn't fathom life without him. He's become such a monumental part of my life that his absence could cause the whole operation to come crumbling down. Luckily enough for me, he doesn't seem to be going anywhere.

And neither am I.

It's thoughts like these that lead me down the path of my future. All those years ago, I thought you'd still be here to help me with these decisions. I never thought that I'd be crossing the road without you, let alone making life altering choices.

I don't want to push my baggage onto Walker. He's the only pure thing left in my life, and I can't destroy him too. I can't smother his flame.

I could talk to you for years, Mari. I have so much to say to you, with no time at all. I guess that you'll just have to watch over me.

Hope you're living your dreams, and dads somewhere in the depths of hell. Lots of love, your favourite girl.

I slammed my journal shut with a start as my bedroom door opened. Walker strolled in, his hair wet from his shower and his clothes untidily chucked on. A small smile crept onto my face at the sight of him; he was so effortlessly beautiful.

"What are you doing, Mimi?" Walker beamed, leaning against my desk. I fiddled with the loose binding of the book before me while I shrugged. I didn't feel comfortable talking about my letters to Marina. They were a private thing - just between her and me. Just like our conversations would be, if she was still here. I was also afraid of coming off like a psycho: writing letters to my dead sister as if she would come back and read them one day. As if she cared.

"Nothing. Just... writing."

Walker picked up on my dismissive tone and dropped the subject with a pretty smile. The thought of what happened at dinner last night plagued my mind all throughout the midnight hours. I knew that he'd be thinking about it, as well. It was more than likely that Walkers distaste towards Dylan would have grown due to the way that he'd treated me. It was also possible, in some empty, cruel cavity in my mind, that Walker could dwell on the things I told him.

The things Jamie said about me.

Narcissist. Sociopath.

Insane. Controlling.

The things that had haunted me for years, making me doubt everything about who I thought I was.

What happened if now he'd heard about these things, he was scared off? What happened if he saw me how she did? What happened if he agreed?