^ you've already seen an edit of 'Bria', but here's one I made :) ^

"And here you are, engrained on my heart—right here. I can't cut you out, I can't stop feeling the pain of you being etched into me again and again and again. But I can always try to ignore the pain."
—#me
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H o l l o w s I n
T I M E
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Jameson moved, looking as if he'd walk towards me.

Then I tore across the road.

Jameson screamed my name one last time, but as something slammed into my side, I realised it wasn't for the same reason as before.

Lights streamed across my vision.

If I can just hold on. I need one more minute.

One more–

13/09/16
Twelve months ago

My eyes fluttered open.

Lights streamed across my vision.

Confusedly, I fumbled around with my eyes half shut, trying to see if Jameson was standing by the doorway that separates our two rooms, waiting for me to wake up like the pure creep he is.

Wait.
I don't recognise this room.

"Honey, you're okay." A voice gushed by my side. I blinked, turning my head to the side to see the blurred figure of my mother. What? Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

More voices followed as I tried to find him. But my eyes were too closed to be open. They were too blinded to see. I was blinded.

"Where is he?" I tried to sit up, but felt the pressure of a million hand sized shadows pushing me back down. I couldn't escape. And I didn't know where Jameson was.

"Where is who?" My mother asked as my vision began to regain stability.

Nurses swarmed in my vision, all holding needles. Or maybe there was just one nurse.

"We should–"

"No!" Someone lunged out and stopped the nurse from going further. "She's already disorientated. Let her come out of it." The voice ordered.

But it wasn't Jameson.

I cried out. "Where is he?" I repeated and the figure turned around.

It was Alexi.

"Where is who?" She echoed my mother, except she bent down, brushing wisps of hair out of my face as she did so. "Where is who, Sky?" She repeated, seemingly insistent on finding out the answer.

"Jameson." Tears seeped out as I clenched my fists against the bed, trying to push myself up. Even if I was wrong about thinking I was back in the academy, I knew that Jameson had been with me. A metre away. So close.

"Where is he?" I repeated. An ache overwhelmed me. My vision of the Academy seemed so real. I could feel it—smell the musky smell of the old, wood paned windows.

"Where is Jameson?" I was acutely aware of the fact that I sounded like I was slowly losing my mind. Lexi's hand had frozen.

"Who's that?" My mother asked from the other side of my bed. "Who is 'Jameson'?"

"Leave me with her." Alexi demanded, her instructions seeming to be for the entire room, yet her eyes were only on me. Nurses scattered, trying to drag my mother with them. It was an order, but I didn't think that anyone would comply. Silence overcame us.

"You ran away from home." Lexi pierced through the silence.

I frowned.

"Was it because of me?" She asked, showing her worry for once, instead of having me guess.

I gnawed at my lip. I needed Jameson. "Partly." I admitted. Lexi shifted so that she sat on my bed, then reached out for my hand.

"I'm sorry. I got angry for no reason." She apologised but I shook my head.

"It's fine." Silence overcame us again.

"Who is 'Jameson'?" Alexi asked quietly. I unclenched my fists.

"I don't know." I lied. "I just had a moment, sorry." Jameson was someone. But that someone isn't here.

Where did he go?
Why did he leave me?
Does he still care?

My heart screamed, thinking of how my feelings for him would never be reciprocated ever again. I could never feel that kind of love ever again.

Lexi stared at me.

"Do you want some water?" She picked up a bottle from the side and placed it into the hand she once held. Then she excused herself, claiming she needed the toilet.

Then I was alone again.

Diary entry 4: 27/10/16

Diary,

It's been a while since I last wrote. But I've been doing some changing. Some trying–not–to–think-ing.

I'm still Sky Forest.
I'm still damaged.
But I don't want Jameson.
I need him.
Yet I don't want him.

I feel the ache in me spread everyday. I do need him. But the need is duller now; it's not as persistent. Because I've realised that I don't want him. My heart can call out for him all it likes—my brain knows better.

He left me.
I love him.
But he left me.

These are the thoughts I've had to deal with for the past month after the accident.

That vehicle had hit me. But so had reality. Reality had sunk into my withering bones. I'm home. And I'm staying here. I can love Jameson, and Jameson could even love me back, but we'd never see each other ever again. I'd see my parents, and Lexi, every single day for the rest of our lives. And for that second, and seemingly impossible, chance at my old life, I am grateful. But that vehicle also left me damaged and broken.

After they kept me in for one night—you know, "just in case, dear."—healing was okay. I came out with bruises and a broken arm. In fact, I still have the stupid cast on—"just in case, dear." is what the doctor said.

I wonder what it's like to be a doctor. To have to fix people when they're broken. Then again, isn't that what I do? With my 'big heart', I always tried to piece things back together. Even if, in reality, I never could manage to fix everything. But, lately, it's like everyone's trying to fix me.

Lexi has barely left my side. Yesterday she followed me into the loo whilst I peed. My parents moved the extra tuition to the weekends, and I'm starting homeschooling in a few months. Right now, it's not easy for me to just jump into homeschooling. My current school wishes that I'd finish the courses before I move onto homeschooling, but my parents argued otherwise. So we met in the middle, meaning that, in three months, I officially become a student from home.

I still have those therapy sessions. And, no, I still don't know his name. But I'll figure it out. He's been nice, considering all the headlines about me. Especially after the accident. Rumours sprung up that I had run in front of the car as a suicide attempt. Fools.

My mother said that my therapist and I have a connection. I told her that all we have between us is a metre of carpet. He's nice, but he's also a no.

Let's talk about something else. Carter.

Reading this diary back, although I was only three diary entries in when I stopped, I realised how much I talked about Jameson. 'Jameson this, Jameson that'. For goodness sake, I got run over because of my obsession with him. I don't blame him—I could never blame him. I just need to let go of something—someone—I can never have.

And so, I've decided, with some input from my therapist, to write about Carter. He probably thought I'd write about how I had burning anxiety over the fact that Carter was out there somewhere, but had yet to be found.

No.

Here's the reality:

Carter is dead.

I can't explain the ache that suffocates me as I set that burden free. Yet still I am burdened. Jameson had held the gun. He had pulled the trigger. Yet, I blame myself. Carter hadn't even suffered the loss of his life before I killed his heart with my selfishness. I had loved Jameson, and I had chosen him over my best friend.

I keep thinking about it like that. Maybe if I had just broken it to Carter that I didn't love him, maybe he'd still be here. But would he really still be here?

If I had told him as soon as I had known, Carter would've still been heartbroken. Then comes the next question: would he have run off like he did before? And where would he have gone? Would it have been a safe place?

I couldn't know for sure.

All I knew was that I couldn't change anything. What's done is done. I can't change the past.

Could I change the future, though? Or will I be laid in a grave full of crawling guilt? You reap what you sow. And I sowed a whole lot of terrible things. It must be, then, that a whole lot of terrible things will happen to me. Will I die? Will I suffer? Will I have my heart broken like I so insensitively broke Carters?

I can never know. The future will tell me, eventually. The only question to ask now is: will I like what I'm told?

_______________________________

Unless you like the idea of captivity for just under six months

Then

Erm

No

"So I can tell here that you have an uncertain future ahead of you–––––
aw, boo! You're one of those girls! So damaged you go to tumblr for help 😭 Don't worry, it'll all be fine, just remember to double check that you've signed those tax papers properly, because I can see in your future that you get that wrong"

-wow hoe u right

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Next update: Friyay
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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN SPOILER:

Why, what a quick little trip that was!

Now, it's back to the present.

We left off our last present chapter with Sky having her biggest revelation yet:

'Jameson isn't to blame for what happened to her'

But does that prove true when they go through information and evidence—together?

And, of course, whilst thinking about the past, it's often that the past surprises you with a visit.

How peculiar!

(Bruh what is this 19th century I crack myself up 😭😂)