Elle’s POV
The morning after felt like wading through concrete. My mind was a disaster zone, a wreckage of bad decisions and worse justifications.
Jesus Christ, I am so stupid.
Seriously. Fucking stupid. Why did I do this? She’s… not good for me. I *know* she’s not. And yet, here I am, lying naked in my bed with her beside me, replaying the night, dissecting every careless touch, every whispered lie.
Maybe I should call Billie.
No. God, no.
No, Elle. Don’t. Just… don’t.
I reached for my phone anyway, the familiar ache blooming in my chest. Opening my contacts, I stared at William Eyelash’s name, the little heart emoji mocking me. I glanced over at Alex, sprawled out beside me, limbs tangled in the sheets. A sigh escaped me. I set the phone back on the nightstand, stood up, and walked to the window.
Now she’s going to want to get back together. And that’s… that’s not what I want.
I decided to shower, throw on sweats, and jog downstairs. As I reached the bottom step, I got a look from Elizabeth. "What the hell, Elle?" she sighed, burying her face in her arms on the kitchen counter.
"What?" I shrugged, knowing exactly what she meant. I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and took a bite as Elizabeth rubbed her temple. "You know."
"Okay, but hear me out-" I started, but she cut me off. "No, Elle! What the hell were you thinking? Billie is the love of your life, and you know that! And you also know Alex is not good for you."
"I know," I huffed, slouching into a chair around the table as Elizabeth leaned her upper body on the kitchen island. "Then why did I hear… what I heard last night?" she asked, her voice tight with frustration.
"I don't know what I was thinking, okay? It just… happened." I repeated, the excuse sounding hollow even to my own ears. "Please stop acting like a mini mum," I added, trying to deflect.
"Elle, she’s right," Mum said, walking into the kitchen with a look mirroring Elizabeth’s. "How long have you been listening?" I asked, suspicion rising.
"Long enough," she replied, her tone flat. "Alex isn’t right for you. She made you cry almost every night, effortlessly. She is toxic."
"Shush, you might wake her!" I warned, my voice a whisper.
"I don't give a fuck if I wake her!" Mum retorted, her voice rising. "I want her out, Eleanor!" she yelled, then immediately covered her mouth, realizing her outburst.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, but I shook my head and walked upstairs.
I found Alex with her ear pressed against the door. "Oh shit," she whispered under her breath, tipping over as I shut the door.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" she questioned once I shut it.
"I don't know." I shrugged and stared down at the floor. "What's wrong?" she asked with a look of concern.
"It's… it's nothing." I said with a fake smile, starting to take the sheets and pillow cases off of my bed. I turned on my speaker and played ‘Luck Pusher’ as I started putting the sheets on. Sure, Billie and I aren’t all that great right now, but that doesn’t mean their music isn’t amazing. I felt Alex staring so hard she’s practically burning holes into the back on my skull. "Please stop staring Alex." I said in such a soft voice it’s almost a whisper.
"Are you sure you're alright? You seem upset?" she asked once again.
"I'm fine, Alex!" I snapped.
"God, okay. I’m sorry for trying to be supportive!" she snapped back.
"Just get out! Okay?! Leave!" I yelled and gestured towards the door.
"El-" she started but I cut her off. "Now, Alex!" I ordered.
"Okay. Call me when you're ready to be reasonable," she huffed and walked through the door.
I couldn't help but press my ear to the door, knowing Mum would say something to Alex, or at least Elizabeth would. "What the hell are you still doing here?" Elizabeth said in a rude, muffled tone.
"Your sister," Alex responded.
"Get out of my house. You are not welcome here," Mum told her in a tone too calm, masking her fury.
"Not what Elle said last night but okay," Alex responded. I heard the front door open and shut, and Mum let out a groan.
I stood up and went back to making the bed. Once I was finished, I cleaned my entire room and bathroom. I knew a depressive episode was coming. I just knew it. Billie was what kept me happy. And I was so stupid to let her go. I knew she didn't want me back, and that was something I had to live with. Maybe we’d cross paths in a few years, maybe we’d even become friends. But only time would tell.
Once my room was spotless, I turned off the lights and drew the shades. I lay in bed, pulling the blankets over my head. I sighed and told Alexa to play my ‘When It Hurts More Than It Should’ playlist.
This was my fault. I knew it. I shouldn't be lying in bed right now; it would only make things worse. But for some reason, it felt awfully good to just relax.
I couldn't help but think about Billie. It was inevitable. She was my soulmate, and I let her go. I loved her, and I left her. I brought this feeling upon myself. So who was I to complain about all of this? Who was I to cry over what happened? It shouldn't make sense, but here we are. I lost the love of my life, and it was my fault.
When I was younger, sadness would hit me like a tsunami in the middle of a calm day. I had no idea why. But as I grew, I started to understand it. It's like the calm before the storm. When everything is good, then it all happens. And you feel like you can't breathe. The rain is pouring down on you, and all you can do is hope and pray for it to end, to be okay in the end. And sometimes, it ruins things, damages relationships with friends, family, and even yourself. And you just feel all alone in the middle of it all. You just wish it would all stop because it's so chaotic and upsetting, and you feel like it’ll be this way forever.
When I was eight, I had a panic attack. I was in my room alone, and I could hear my parents arguing downstairs. The walls were thin at our old house, so you could hear everything they said distinctly. You could hear the sexist slurs my father screamed at Mum, his fist hitting her jaw, Mum crying and telling him she was sorry, him shouting at her for God knows what, him slamming her against the wall and her begging him to stop. Everything. My heart sank when I heard the loud thud of Mum’s body hitting the floor. I wanted to save her, but I felt glued to my bed. I couldn’
t move a muscle. My breathing sped up, and tears streamed down my face. I felt as if I couldn't breathe at all. My mouth was dry, and my jaw started hurting. I felt like I might drown from the tears.
They happened every night and eventually became routine. I’d cry myself to sleep every night and pretend nothing happened the next day. Until one day when I was eleven, I had one at school. I was sitting in class, and quite suddenly, my heart sank to my feet. I thought I couldn't breathe, so I took bigger breaths. Eventually, my teacher noticed and asked if I was alright. Everybody in the classroom was staring at me, burning holes throughout my entire body as they watched me. My eyes welled up with tears, and I tried to blink them away. Obviously, that backfired, and they poured down my cheeks. The teacher rushed me to the counselor's office, and I assured them I was fine. They called Mum, and she picked me up from school. She got me ice cream and asked if I’d consider therapy. I ended up going, and I’ve continued to go to this day. I’m sure I’ve cost Mum thousands of dollars, but she tells me it’s worth it.
About an hour had passed, and I heard a knock on my door. I tried to answer, but no sound came out. The door opened, and I heard footsteps approach my bed. "Hey hun. Listen, I know this seems like the best option, but it’s not. You know it’s not. Why don’t we go out and have a walk around the city?" Mum said in a soothing voice.
"I… I just want to lay here for a bit," I sniffled.
"Okay. Can I stay with you?" she asked.
"I guess so," I nodded. "How long has it really been?" I asked, clearing my throat immediately after.
"Do you really want me to tell you?" she asked, lying down beside me and wrapping her arm around me.
"Yeah," I said hesitantly.
"Seven and a half hours," she answered.
"God," I sighed and ran my hand through my hair. "I’m sorry about earlier," she said in a sad tone.
"I know. I wish I could change the way that you see yourself. I know you don’t believe me when I say this, but you are the most amazing daughter anyone could ever ask for. The most amazing person I know. And if someone ever tells you otherwise… I’ll… I’ll beat em up," she said, making me laugh. Laughing hurt my throat, so I quickly cleared it and drank some water.
"I love you, you know that right?" she said.
"Yeah. I love you too," I replied.
We sat like this for I don't know how long, her running her fingers through my hair and me sobbing into her shirt. I knew it was absolutely soaked now, but she didn't care. That's one of the things I love most about Mum; she’ll be there for you no matter what. I hope she finds someone who deserves her, treats her right. I hope she finds her Billie and never lets them go.