Esteem

Chapter 51

ASHTON

My head is pounding when I wake up, but don't feel any alcohol in my bloodstream anymore. Sitting up, I glance around me, not remembering how or when I got here. I am in Claire's bed, the bed that she and I shared for a month before I couldn't bear to stay without her.

I vaguely remember hearing her voice yesterday, but it was in my dreams. Still I hold onto a shred of hope as I descend the stairs, not knowing or really caring what I look like. I can hear my heartbeat too loud in my head as I remember Claire's face shifting to Michael's and then back. Was that a dream? Or were they really here? It would be so like Michael to check up on me. But it wasn't Claire. She's gone for good.

I am proven right by the almost eerie silence of the house. Feeling foolish, I call out anyway. "Hello?" My voice rings out across the silence, but there is nothing. "Claire?" I croak. Her name burns in my throat, worse than the alcohol. And there is no answer.

My first instinct is to crawl back in bed, but the pain that accompanies the thought is too great. All too suddenly, I am seized by the mad desire to get out of here. A desperate need to leave this all behind.

I should go home. My real home.

For the longest time I thought that she was my home, but you can't build houses with broken bricks, and you can't make homes out of broken people. I should have known that. Instead I sat around with my hammer and nails, desperately trying to fix the walls as they collapsed in on themselves. But if I stay here any longer, I will be lost in the rubble.

So even though I feel like I'm barely able to support my own weight, I trudge back up the stairs. I am tired by the time I reach the top, but I don't stop. I can't remember what day it is or how long it's been since I've been here, but I haven't showered and I'm sure it shows. I've avoided mirrors; I don't want to see what this has done to me.

I wanted to be stronger than all of this. I never imagined that I could be taken down this easily, but I never imagined her. What a beautiful disaster of a human being she was.

Was. I have to start thinking of her in the past tense, or else my mind won't believe that she's gone. That it's over.

When I absentmindedly grab a shampoo bottle from the shower ledge, my knees almost hit the floor. It's hers, it smells like her. She invades my nostrils, my mind, she is once again everywhere and nowhere. But I remain standing. By the minute, I am stronger.

I reach for my own shampoo and try to ignore the symbolism behind closing her shampoo bottle and reaching for my own. I set her on a shelf and try to use myself for a change.

I emerge from the shower feeling slightly better, which, given the last few days, is actually a drastic change. I towel dry my hair and put on clean clothes, feeling more refreshed than I have in days. Weeks, even.

Now comes the hard part. The leaving part.

When I'm gone, I won't be coming back. The memories that are held within these walls will stay within these walls. I will do my best to leave them here.

Still, I find myself standing in the middle of Claire's bedroom... our bedroom... unable to move. It is a crushing feeling, leaving. I wonder if she felt it too.

But it is so different. I am leaving nothing but memories; Claire left actual people. She left... me. And I would be hard pressed to say that it was easy for her, but it couldn't have hurt too badly. Or else she wouldn't have done it. Hell, I'm having a hard time walking away from a building. But she left a human and didn't even look back.