woman like me - j.f✔️

XX

Love left Justin in her room as she'd gone to the kitchen, finding something to drink that would get rid of the dryness in her throat. Talking about her sophomore year brought horrible memories, and she hadn't even gotten through half of it. There was still more to come. She'd taken two mugs of tea up to her room, handing one to Justin, who seemed equally as distraught at her story. It made her want to shut up and never talk again, but it's best to get everything out for him.

"You don't have to keep going," he consoled. "Just stop whenever you want." His hand was placed gently on her knee, and she smiled up at him. She sipped on her tea, letting the warm liquid act as a relaxer for her emotions.

"Four weeks after Kenny died, I had finally gone back to school. Rowan wouldn't leave my side, she'd helped me through everything. My mom had gotten me into school therapy and it seemed to be working." She began, bringing her knees to her chest. "Everything seemed okay. But another death had just crumbled every bit of progress I'd made. My cousin, Hannah, she killed herself shortly after. We'd only see each other at family events, but she was the cousin that I got along with best."

Justin's heart felt like it had stopped. He made the calculations in his head, dating it back to the same time the Hannah he knew had died. He didn't make the correlation, maybe because of the different surnames. But their mom's were sisters, as he'd come to realise earlier. His jacket had become tight, the button on his shirt trapping his neck and restricting his breathing. Any longer and he'd be seeing spots. Quickly rising to his feet, he unbuttoned his shirt.

"Is everything okay?" She asked him, placing a hand on his arm. He flinched, unable to look her in the eyes. He began breathing weirdly, no amount of air he took in was enough. It was like he was stuck in a massive tube, no air or movement and nobody could hear his struggles inside.

"I need to go," he breathed, heading for her bedroom door. "I'm so sorry, I'll text you soon." He left her, completely confused, and ran down the stairs. After a brief goodbye to her mom and sister, he got to the door. And on the table beside the door, sat a picture of Hannah and Love, smiling and embracing tightly.

He ran home, his legs buckling, but he held up the strength to get home. He felt his phone buzz every few minutes, but he hadn't even stopped to reach for it. He just kept running.

His past was coming back to haunt him. No matter how far he'd go, he'd always find a piece of his past somewhere. When he'd arrived at his apartment, he fumbled for the keys in his pocket and unlocked the door. Now that he was trapped in the four walls of his apartment, nobody to come and get him, he felt safe. He'd undressed, sitting on his bed in only his boxers, and cried.

He was angry, confused, he hated himself for everything. Nothing hurt more than he did right now. After getting to know Love and realising how much he liked her, his regret for everything had worsened. Sure, when the tapes had gotten to him and he listened, he felt bad. He lots a few friends, he wrongly mistreated Clay, and he'd lost his girlfriend. But Love, Hannah's cousin, was a diamond among rocks. She didn't deserve this, she didn't deserve someone who had helped in the suicide of her favourite cousin, her only cousin. And she was none the wiser. She thought Justin just came from a town with a mysterious past, and chose to look past it. But there was no way in Hell that she'd look past this.

Had she heard the tapes? Had she heard any of the names mentioned on the list of who was to blame? Had she heard his name come up and not pieced it together? He was waiting. Waiting for a text from her that weren't at all like the ones she was sending him now.

Text me.
Call me.
Just reach out, I'm worried.
Justin, please.
What happened?
If the story triggered you, I'm so very sorry.

She was blaming herself. She was sat on her bed, worry flowing through her every vein, praying for Justin's wellbeing and safety.

Justin: I'm okay, I just got panicky. I'm sorry.

Thank God, you're okay. What was it?

Justin: It wasn't you. Don't worry. It's best you get some sleep.

Okay, goodnight Justin.

Justin: Goodnight, Love.

He couldn't sleep. He spent hours of his time just laying in bed, imagining her face when she finds out. She was going to find out somehow. From someone. Maybe her aunt will recognise his face, warn Love, and they'd never be in contact again. If anything, Justin wanted to tell her. It would only be right. He'd be facing his problems head on, instead of running from them. Which was funny, as that's how they met. He had quite literally ran from his problems.

The sky was beginning to lighten up, and he was running off of no sleep whatsoever. But he had errands to run today, so he'd gotten out of bed and trudged to find some coffee. Every morning when he'd go to the kitchen, he'd see Clay's number on his refrigerator. That he kept meaning to add to his contacts, but kept forgetting.

He sat at the table with his mug in hand, sighing. He analysed his past, knowing that he didn't play as big of a part as Bryce or Jessica or Alex. But he was still a big part of it. He was the only one with two tapes. He cursed himself for even getting out of Zach's car that day, and getting Hannah's number. This could've all been avoided. But bad things happen for good things to happen. In Hannah's death, he met Love. He'd just wished he met her under better circumstances.