#*wilbur

then the twins were born!!

She’s screaming inside her head, over and over, and she can hear a roaring that she thinks is the blood pounding in her ears until she realizes, no, her mouth is open, and the words that are buzzing around her brain are now tumbling out over her lips before she can stop them. What the hell do you want from me what the hell do you want from me what the hell do you want from me and for a moment she thinks he can’t answer, or he won’t answer and she doesn’t know which hurts worse.

But no, no, she’s wrong, neither of them hurt as much as what he does say.

“Nothing.”

Nothing, and it hits her like a blow to the stomach. Nothing, and she can still taste his lips on hers not two days before. Nothing, and she can feel the ghost of his fingertips tracing secrets along her skin, the warmth of his arm wrapped around her waist, the light of his smile, the way his hand felt laced between hers, and it was all nothing nothing nothing and she had to turn away because couldn’t even look at him without feeling her blood boiling underneath her skin.

That’s when it caught her eye. It was sitting on her desk like some proud little display, reflecting the light from the window so it sparkled a thousand different colors at once. It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen and she hated it, her abalone shell.

He had left it for her in her locker, with a small note with one word scrawled out in messy handwriting. “Sorry,” it read. Nothing more, not even a name. When she asked him about it later, out on the beach with his head resting in her lap, her fingers trailing lazily through his hair, he had only shrugged. As if it was no big deal. As if it hadn’t even mattered. At the time she thought it was sweet. Romantic, even. Now looking at it made her sick.

She hadn’t realized her thoughts had carried her across the room until she had the shell gripped tightly in her palm. It felt heavy, like the weight on her lungs that was making it hard to breathe or the tears resting just behind her eyes threatening to spill over, and she wanted nothing more than to get rid of it.

She spun quickly, watching the the world around her blur to match the dizzying thoughts in her head and before she had even completely registered what she was doing she felt the shell leave her hand, flying across the room with a strength she wasn’t even aware that she had. But where she expected to hear the bittersweet sound of her projectile meeting its target, she was met with a dull thump as it instead hit the wall before sliding to the floor. She opened her eyes, which she hadn’t even realized were closed, only to find an empty room and a wide-open door.

Those are good questions! Really great, I’m telling ya. You’re one of a kind — so, can I leave my stuff here?