THE WAY THINGS USED TO BE

39

FIND HER
" what's meant to be will always find a way. "
( BRYON'S POV )
-

Three years. Three years that felt like a lifetime. A lifetime of confusion and regret. Three years of feeling lost and not knowing what the hell to do.

When I read Delilah's letter, my world came crashing down. I mean, it was already shit, but at least I had her. But now she was gone too.

My mom died a year after Delilah left. I had no one.

Mark and I never spoke again. I scraped whatever money I had left and tried to live off of it. Mark was happy. I tried to be too, but that feeling was a stranger to me.

Delilah had left me during the hardest moment of my life. The moment where I felt like it couldn't get any worse, but it did.

Despite it all, I didn't hate Delilah. I didn't hate her. I could never hate her. Even though she was gone, I'd always love her. I know it sounds cliché but I swear no matter how many chicks I hook up with, her long brown hair and contagious laugh is all I see.

Maybe I'm obsessed. Maybe I'm just stuck in the past. I think I'll always be.

Ponyboy had told me that. Stop staying in past, Bryon, he would say, I've done that for much too long. I tried to think about what he said. It wasn't easy for him when both his friends died, but that just didn't occur to me. All I could do was stay in the past. Maybe I just wanted to. Needed it.

I tried all I could to move on. I really did. I drank too much, stayed out too late. Worked until I felt exhausted, so I would sleep without dreams.

But dreams are nightmares that look like a pretty girl, haunting you with warm golden brown eyes.

They always say time heals you, but god, it seems to me like time only rubs the salt in your wound. Year by year, and I think I might see her face again.

I swore to myself I would. I swore to myself she would walk in the door someday, back from whatever trip she went on. She'd be back. I swore to myself she would.

I got up from messy bed and looked in the mirror. Bags adorned my eyes, and there was a bruise on my cheekbone from a bar fight a few days ago.

I ran my fingers through my hair. I kept it just the right length to where a little bit of it reached my forehead. She always liked it that way.

I greased it up, and combed it neatly.

I looked in the mirror once again, scanning my appearance. I had on Delilah's peace necklace. I always had it on.

And our polaroid stuck onto the edge of my mirror. I'd look at it everyday.

And that's when I realized it. In the mist of the early dawn, I realized what I had tried to deny for so long.

Delilah would never walk through that door. She wasn't coming back. I had known it all along, but it's like bad news you don't want to believe.

She wouldn't be walking into the door anytime soon. I had to get out of this damn town. I had to find her.

I had to find her. I had to find her.