War Zones and Paradise

Chapter Thirteen, Part Three - Sin City

Nope.

This, would never make us even.

After A'keem's revelation about the fire, I went to bed that night, hoping I could sleep off the shots with the onus.

I couldn't.

Just like I couldn't have been more wrong about Tyler. I was so sure about the fire, that I had condemned him from the start, never stopping to consider that he might actually be innocent. Because let's face it–how often did that happen?

Except this time, it had.

The next morning, I got up extra-early and made breakfast–pancakes, eggs, bacon, buttered toast. Tyler's plate was steaming on the table when he entered the kitchen, yawning as he stretched his arms above his head.

"For mois?" Grinning, he took a seat and grabbed his fork. "I was just gonna microwave a bunch of poptarts--but this is great."

I smiled, my heart filling to the brim as I poured his orange juice. For the rest of his life, every day would be Tyler's birthday, every night his Valentine's.

That was how hard I was willing to work to correct my awful mistake.

"Hey." Before I could pull away, Tyler placed his hand on top of mine, and squeezed. "Are you alright? You're so busy trying to make sure everything else is ok--but how are you?"

"Well, I have a stomach ache," I replied, feeling like such a Stepford Wife as I smiled. "Other than that, I'm totally fine..."

Tyler's hand tightened; he raised his eyebrows.

Sit those deep green eyes commanded, so I obeyed. I sat down in the chair beside him, cradling the orange juice carton in my lap, wishing it was something a little harder. Last night I was only buzzed, for this I should've been plastered.

"Ok, I'm not fine," I admitted. "In order to be fine, I'd have to not be a terrible person--which I fully am."

"Ali, no..."

I shook my head, holding back tears. "You were innocent, Tyler. You had nothing to do with that fire--and I owe you a huge apology."

"Babe, I don't want you to forgive me--"

"Then forgive me instead, because I was wrong--and I'm really sorry. I mean, what kind of person just assumes someone would start a fire? I didn't even have the guts to ask if you actually did it..." I sighed, eyes still on the juice as I tucked my hair behind my ear. "I am a terrible person. Seriously, someone should come take me away before I do more harm..."

And there it was.

True realization--and I only had to hit rock bottom to achieve it.

I was done.

Finito.

Over it.

No more would I harbor resentment, plot revenge, or cater an incessant appetite for answers to questions that were probably better left unsaid anyway. Because at the end of the day, I had survived everything. I was still alive, so why did I feel the need to keep killing myself over the past?

So what if Cody and Peyton had secrets? They could keep them–and each other, if they felt so inclined.

And if the person who pushed me got away? I hoped that every night, for the rest of their lives, when they closed their eyes they saw nothing but my sunny smile.