The depression didn’t set in until later.
And that was when I got my final diagnosis.
Bipolar.
It was kind of an ironic thing. How being bipolar made sure that I would always be more popular than Caiden. My manic episodes made me loud and brash, willing to do anything, unafraid of the world. The kids gravitated towards me, not seeing the days when I couldn’t get out of bed, when Caiden had to sleep next to me because I couldn’t stop crying.
I saw it in my parents’ eyes now, after the accident, the fact that they could barely look at me.
They wished it was me lying in that hospital bed.
And I didn’t blame them.
I wished it was me as well.
And it was all her fault.
For two brothers who’d always been inseparable, it sure took us a long time to realize that the both of us were in love with the same girl. I marched into Everly’s life in my usual way, not thinking of consequences or anything else for that matter. I saw those green eyes, those pouty lips on that angelic face.
And I wanted her.
Only turned out that my brother did, too.
I brushed a hand down my face, still tasting the egg burrito that Jadin must have eaten for breakfast. I was sure she would have at least chewed some gum if she knew I was going to jump her like that. I hadn’t touched Jadin in ages. I had a one-fuck rule. But I’d panicked when I saw Everly standing there, the loveliest pain you could imagine.
Shame soured my stomach because even after everything that had happened, even after what she’d done to Caiden...what we’d done to Caiden, I still wanted her.
After enough time passed, I began to think that I couldn’t possibly have imagined something so perfect. I’d burned nearly all the pictures of us, especially the pictures of the three of us. And I’d told myself that there was no way I was remembering the slope of her nose right, or the way her eyes seemed to sparkle when she laughed, or how smooth her skin felt under my hands. Sometimes I told myself that I’d imagined she was so perfect just to hurt myself, to punish myself for the part I’d played in my brother’s downfall.
But seeing her today...I realized that if anything, I’d remembered her as less perfect than she really was. I understood now why it had hurt so much. Because the kind of pain I’d been experiencing couldn’t exist if she hadn’t been real.
She was the devil hidden behind an angel’s face, and I was so fucking tired of the temptation of her. I hated her in a way that sometimes still shocked me.
Because as much as I hated her.
I couldn’t forget that I’d once loved her more.
I had spent the last two years cursing her name, happy for the reprieve from seeing her face and remembering over and over what we’d done to my brother.
Everly
Sharing a room with Melanie was going to be awkward. And that was probably an understatement.
I had come back from a blissfully Jackson-free dinner with Lane in one of the cafeterias to find that she’d rifled through my stuff. She didn’t even bother to put things back. Everything was scattered around on the floor, wrinkled and stepped on. She lay on her stomach on her bed, watching an episode of Gossip Girl when I walked in, and even though I was sure that she knew I was looking at her wondering what the fuck she’d done to my stuff...she didn’t even turn her head to look at me.
She couldn’t hide that miniscule little smirk though.
That told me I wasn’t going to be finding refuge in my room any time soon. It was good that I didn’t have much by way of earthly possessions, and that my journal was still hidden in my car. Because it was clear that Melanie was the type to rifle through a journal and probably post all the juicy parts around the dorms for good measure.
I didn't know if I was relieved or not that our "private bathroom" actually only consisted of a private toilet and mirror. I was still going to have to use the common area showers. I knew I would never have felt comfortable showering while Melanie was in the room though, and at least the common area showers had outside doors that could be locked, even if someone could peek in from over and under the doors.
I waited until Melanie was asleep before I snuck out to the showers with my caddie. The common rooms were blissfully quiet. I hadn't expected anyone to be friendly, having one friend like Lane was more than I'd thought I'd get, but the looks from the girls that I'd seen so far had been downright hostile.
It had been ten years since my father had gone out with a bang...but it still seemed like the memory of his sins wasn't fading, even towns away.
I’m used to being hated.
I’m used to being lonely.
Someday, I would get far enough away from my past that it could no longer haunt me.
Ignoring the image of Jackson's perfect face floating through my mind every time I thought of leaving this state for good and the pang of regret that image always brought me, I focused on what was in front of me, what needed to be done.
I showered quickly, the blissful quiet transforming into eerie silence for some reason. I'd brought my pajamas with me, not daring to make the rookie mistake of going down the hall with just a towel on in the off chance that someone was out there ready to make a fool of me.
After I was dressed, I crept down the halls, back to my room. I kept the lights off while I put my caddie away, trying to be as quiet as possible so that I didn't wake Melanie up...she was, unfortunately, a bit of a snorer. But I guess I would always know when she was asleep.
I sunk down on my bed, immediately letting out a small shriek as soon as my body touched my sheets.
They were soaking wet with chunks of ice scattered all over.
Someone—my new roommate most likely—had dumped ice water all over my bed.
My shriek had been loud enough to raise the dead, but my roommate hadn't even budged, and the sounds of her snoring were still there.
Evidently, she was an actress as well.
I started shaking, not knowing how to describe exactly what I experienced; maybe it was a mixture of anger and distress.
No matter where I went, or how "elite" or "mature" the student body was supposed to be...it was still going to be like this.
I was exhausted and now I had nowhere to sleep. My roommate...or whoever had done this, had done a good job, there wasn't a spot of my bed that had been untouched. I guess I should just be happy that it was just water and not something worse.
This was a warning shot, to remind me where exactly my place was in this school. For a moment, I longed for Jackson. He'd always been my protector growing up and it was a bad habit that I still wished he was in that role.
Scooping up my pillow and setting it down on the floor, I put a few layers of my clothes on top of it, hoping they would keep me from feeling the worst of the chilly dampness. I couldn't risk going to sleep out on the couches out in the common room, and I didn't know where Lane's room was yet. I just had to hope that my roommate didn't decide to draw on my face while I was sleeping.
It was a long night, and Melanie made sure to step on my hair in the morning when she woke up for class, pretending that she hadn't seen me there.
"Why exactly are you sleeping on the floor?" she said in an annoyed voice, no sign on her face that she was the culprit behind my wet night.
I opened my mouth to respond and then decided against it. There was no way that she one, somehow missed someone either coming into the room and dumping water all over my bed...or two, forgot she had decided to torture her new roommate for kicks and giggles.