Six months later
The air conditioning in my apartment stopped working because I stopped paying those bills. I sat on the floor of my art room, suffocating in Phoenix’s dry heat. I had never been one to leave my apartment in general so I wasn’t used to how the hot air pressed against my chest and burned my eyes. I stopped paying those bills so I could afford my rent. I could barely afford my rent because I stopped working as much. I could barely pick up a paintbrush. I could barely think of any ideas when I did.

I could hear my computer dinging from across the room, letting me know of incoming emails that I wasn’t planning on reading for a couple of days.

I was getting bad again. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep this up. I knew it wasn’t healthy, but the part of me that cared just wasn’t here right now. He had gone away.

I wasn’t always like this. The first few months after Tony left, I definitely had closed up, but I was sort of okay. I was okay enough to do my job and interact with customers. I was okay enough to go back to the pre-Ella-Tori, the Tori from before meeting Tony in real life. It wasn’t great, something—someone—was missing, but I was managing. I was used to the loneliness. The emptiness. The inexplicable pain.

But I wasn’t used to not having Tony. That was the difference that gradually sunk into my bones, that broke me. I no longer had him here. I no longer had him online, either. I didn’t have him to talk to at the end of the day, whether it was through instant messaging or in person.

As more and more days passed, I felt increasingly more haunted by Tony going back to San Diego. His ghost floated around my apartment. It was like he had left a part of himself here. I felt it every aching moment of the day and night. Even though it was disgustingly hot in my apartment, I shivered often. I couldn’t do my art or work because it made me think of him. I hardly ate because I learned that I couldn’t keep food down very well. Really the only thing that made me realize that time was passing was my hair. It was now starting to brush past my shoulders.

I picked up a strand of my hair and twisted it in between my thumb and index finger. It was greasy. I knew I had to get up and shower at some point. It’s been three days. But all I wanted was Tony and my bed. Right now all I had was my bed.

I dragged myself to it, my eyes darting to my bathroom. I knew I should wash my face or something but it was like I was tied to a line connected to my mattress. It wasn’t letting me get too far away.

Before I knew it, I was collapsed on top of my unmade bed. Today was worse than the others. I felt horrible. I curled up as best as I could, as much as my stiff bones would let me.

When I woke up, I was even foggier than yesterday. My eyes were open fully but everything was hazy as if I were squinting them. I rolled over, making eye contact with my bathroom again. I sighed. The air came out painfully. I coughed it out and then somehow mustered up the strength to drag myself to the shower. I almost forgot to take my clothes off.

I didn’t have hot water but it was the cold that I needed, anyway. As if I had burns on my skin, the water was soothing but also painful. I breathed a little easier while it ran over my body. I outstretched my arm and examined my bony hand, tracing my other fingertips over my knuckles. They were red. My fingertips were pruned.

I got out of the shower and cleaned up a bit. I felt a little better physically—mentally, I still didn’t feel quite present.

I didn’t know what to do with my time anymore. I couldn’t work. I didn’t want to even bother trying. TV didn’t interest me. It would give me a headache. I didn’t touch my favorite books. The words would probably get mixed up.

At some point in the day, I managed to do some laundry. I figured that would make me feel a little better, having some clean sheets. I sat solemnly on a machine with earphones in, my music on shuffle, waiting for my sheets and comforter to go through the wash and dry. Luckily my complex had a laundry room in the basement so I didn’t have to go far.

“Don’t make me wish on a falling star! I’ve been afraid that the blood in my heart won’t sing for me a melody that’s ours. Drown me in the rain, I’d swim and sink for you.” Starving for friends, a new song that Tony had shown me during our short time together in person, started to play. I wanted to cry but couldn’t bring myself to. That was because all of my tears were inside, drowning my organs. I couldn’t let them out. I’d sink for you, Tony, I thought sadly.

I laid in my bed the rest of the day, feeling okay now that both my bed and I were clean. I breathed in the scent of ocean breeze that was my pillowcase and smiled a little.

A little while later, I shot up with more energy than I’ve mustered in days at the sound of my door being knocked on. Dazed, confused, and anxious, I slid out of bed and pattered to my door.

“Tori,” a voice said through the door. I didn’t know why I expected to be Tony’s voice. I sighed a little and mentally thanked my rational self for taking a shower earlier as I opened the door to face my boss. I waved gently.

He grimaced a little when I opened the door. “Do you always keep it so hot in there, Tori? Wow,” he said, looking as if the heat in my apartment had physically pushed him back. I shrugged my shoulders and offered a weak smile.

He sighed, smiling back. There was something in his eyes—empathy, maybe. A glint of worry. A small dose of guilt?

“Listen, Tori…” he started, shifting on his feet. I immediately knew what he was going to say. To be honest, I kind of expected it. I tried to avoid it as much as possible but I knew I’d have to face it eventually.

I nodded, scrunching my mouth. “You haven’t answered any emails or calls, which is why I’m here…but you know that. I probably don’t need to explain anything to you…” he frowned, sighed again, and looked awfully uncomfortable. I bit on my lip guiltily. “I really hate to let you go, Tori. You’re very talented. You’re a great girl. But I can tell that you working for us right now is not what you or we need… I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I hope you’re figuring it out and getting help. We need to move forward as a company, so I need to hire artists that are on the same page as us. I’m afraid to say that I don’t think you’re the right fit for us right now.” He sighed again. “We’ve put up with you for a long time but enough is enough… I’m disappointed, Tori. You had potential. I hate to see it go away. Please give me a call if you… um, if you get better and want to do this again,” he finished. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

I nodded again. I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn’t even do that. It’s been weeks since I’ve said a word. It physically hurt. I tried again but then I shook my head. My cheeks heated in embarrassment. I couldn’t even properly close ties with my boss! I knew this would affect my career horribly but now I didn’t have the energy to care.

I really tried to force out a small thank you, but it just didn’t work. I think he noticed my obvious struggle to form words.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Take care of yourself, Tori.” He extended his hand and I carefully took it to shake. I smiled sadly as he turned around and left. I closed the door and backed away.

My throat hurt. It’s been weeks since I’ve said a word. It’s been weeks since I’ve made a sound. It’s been weeks—months—since I’ve actually cried.

It all erupted from me at once. I fell to the ground. My brain was fritzing, not letting me control my muscles that allowed me to stand. I was weak. Too weak.

I cried. It came out like waterfalls. It was the ugly kind of crying, too. Noise came with it. I sobbed into the ground. Everything in my life was fucked up, now. I had no family—I had pushed them away. I had no friends—my only one I had betrayed. I had no job—I let myself get fired, too depressed to even make a living for myself. Soon I wouldn’t have a place to live. I wouldn’t have my bed to sleep in. I had nothing.

While I cried, I debated calling my mom or dad or brother. It had been years, though. I was their estranged daughter. I was a mess.

My throat hurt when I let out a scream. The scream opened a door of rage for me to explode through. I somehow found my legs and ripped through my art room. I held in my fists my painting of Tony and his band. The first one I ever did. It should have inspired me to stop destruction and restart creating. The only thing I thought of doing, though, was ripping it in half. I couldn’t breathe as I did it. I ripped it in half over and over again until it was small pieces scattering the ground.

I yelled again. I slammed my fists into the table I usually worked on. I grabbed the chair that I usually sat in and threw it across the room. I threw paintbrushes at the wall. I swiped my supplies off of the table and onto the floor. I found a few more pieces of mine, newer ones, and crumbled them.

My hands twitched. I wanted so much to hurt myself instead, but for some reason I felt like hurting my artwork would do more damage. I was just skin and bones at this point. There was no point in scraping that up. So I grabbed a paintbrush and some red paint from the floor. I growled a little as I opened the bottle and squeezed some paint onto the table. I hastily dipped my brush in and grabbed the closest piece of artwork. I spread the brush across all of the details, red splashing onto it, ruining it. I spilled more red paint onto more pieces. I was not merciful at all. I destroyed everything. I didn’t know if I had saved any pieces. I didn’t care.

I looked at my hands when I had lost energy. They were red with paint. I wiped them on my pants but they remained stained. I ran them through my hair, not even thinking that the acrylic would dry and be a pain to wash out. If I ever got around to washing it out again, that is.

There was nothing left for me to destroy. I had already gone through every part of my life and ensured that it was messed up. There was no chance of reconciliation. I had already tried that with Tony six months ago. I wasn’t about to try that again.

I was a little shocked that Tony had actually left. It was silly of me to think that he would immediately forgive me though, I guess. Life wasn’t a fairytale. Things didn’t work out so easy.

My hands shook as I called Tony. I wasn’t sure about my religious beliefs but I prayed that he would pick up. I found my voice and left messages. I was gutted that he didn’t pick up. He knew I never called. Doesn’t that show how important he is to me? I would step out of my comfort zone a million times for him.

“Tony, please…” I said shakily into the phone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I made things get out of hand. Please come back… I loved you too.” I cried hard after I left that message. I wanted him to know that I loved him too. I always have, even though my younger self didn’t want to believe it. Tony was mine. My Tony. I couldn’t let him go. Not like this.

I started to call again. I expected another voicemail. When I heard his breathing at the end of the line, though, my breath staggered. He was everything I wanted, everything I couldn’t have.

“Tony?” I whispered. He didn’t answer at first. Thoughts flooded my brain. I didn’t want to hurt Tony. I didn’t deserve his love. I was afraid that he still loved me. I would only hurt him more. I wanted him here so bad, though. I selfishly wanted him here to stay forever, even though I would hurt him. What kind of love was that?

“Are you there?” I asked quietly, desperately.

I heard him swallow thickly. “Yes.”

“Where are you?”

“Does it matter?”

“Tony—“

“Save your breath,” he answered. It stung. The knot in my throat tightened. “Just forget about it. Everything.”

“No,” I replied. My voice was firmer than I expected it would sound. I always had a knack for acting like I had myself together when I really didn’t. “We always try to shove our problems aside and act like they never happened but it doesn’t work. It’s not healthy. We can’t keep running away from ourselves.” It really was all me, though. I had put him through so much trouble his entire time in Phoenix. I was the one who always ran away, not fighting for what I loved. I was okay with losing and leaving when things got too hard and just simply recede into muteness. I was comfortable being trapped in my shell of security. Tori Holt: the one who ran away.

“I know…” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes as I spoke. “I know I’ve screwed things up between us,” I continued. “Beyond repair. I don’t expect you to forgive me because I wouldn’t feel like doing that either if I was you. But you must know that I loved you too. And I’m not just saying that because you said it first. I’m saying that because I did fall in love with you. I fell in love with the boy behind every letter and email and I got the chance to fall in love with him again in person. Even though these past few days weren’t as you expected—even though you wanted the real me but got Ella instead—they were the best days of my life.”
They were the best days of my life. And in this moment, I just felt ready for it to be over. Six months later, Tony was still gone, and I was crumbling into pieces. I know you’re not supposed to kill yourself over a boy but that wasn’t what I was considering—I was so lonely, so empty, so hopeless. My brain was clouded with thoughts and memories that now even art couldn’t push out. I wondered if Tony were here if he’d be able to push them out. For some reason I really doubted that he would help. That was a part of my life he didn’t know about. Another lie. It wouldn’t work. I wouldn’t work. I didn’t want to die because of Tony, no. I wanted to die because of me.

When I threw up my feelings, luckily I made it to the bathroom toilet instead of the corner of a room. I wouldn’t have cleaned it up otherwise. I sat in my bathroom against the tile. Terrible things ran through my head. I looked at my red hands and wished that it wasn’t paint. I got myself sick again with these thoughts. I didn’t want them. They were everywhere. I was sick.

I never called Tony again after that day. He had willingly got on a plane and left. I knew he wouldn’t come back for a long time. Maybe he would call when he was ready but it has been half a year already so the thought hardly crossed my mind anymore.

But Tony was okay. I knew he would be. He had people. He had his band. He had his clothing line company, his best friend and his best friend’s family. He had people. He had support. He had a life in San Diego. He was probably okay.

I was messed up. All of my days were bad ones. I couldn’t function.

Maybe Tony had a rough time, too, but he probably functioned. He had people around him to make sure he functioned. He had a life to attend to. He had a future. He had a present. All that I had was an ugly past.

Pierce the veil, Tori, a small voice in the back of my head whispered. I’ve heard that voice a lot recently. Sometimes it’s more extreme and in the front of my head, not whispering, but yelling. I didn’t like it at all. I didn’t like the implications of it’s orders, to pierce the veil. Because for the first time, it was a negative thought. The only source to my problems that I could think about cutting out was me, myself. I shuddered.

I shuddered again when I heard a knock on the door. Delusional from my own pain, I stumbled up. I forgot about the paint in my hands, pants, and hair. I slowly shuffled to the door. Maybe it was my boss again, needing to tell me more how I was just someone he had to “put up with.” Maybe he’d shake my shoulders and tell me that "enough was enough." Somebody had to or else I’d sink away into oblivion forever.

I didn’t even ask who was at the door when I got to it. I should have felt more scared but I think it was the numbness that masked it. It definitely wasn't bravery.

I opened the door.

Notes

It might be just me, but I feel like this chapter is really really sad (I'm in a mood, my bad) so here's two pictures of Tony with an animal as a double apology:

(~*action shot*~)

#bless

Anyways. Hope all you lovely readers out there are doing okay. Love you guys a lot. Sorry for taking a while to write this! It'll be summer for me in a few weeks so I'll be more on my game once finals are over :)

Here ya go Precious. Godspeed my luv