"who am I
when I feel?
what dies in me
when I am me?"

I can't do this.

“Yes, you can,” Nora said, staring. She had been staring at me for a very long time now. 

I hadn’t realised that I said it out loud. Just thinking about saying anything out loud, right at this moment, was making my stomach churn in an almost sickening way. I didn't even remember having breakfast this morning.

I gave Nora a miserable look, wanting to curl up on myself.

“I think you can.” Nora passed me a smile, a sympathetic one.

A shudder went through me and I wrapped my arms around myself. Just the prospect of getting up from the couch and leaving my house to go to that art studio was enough to make me want to throw up again. I would do absolutely anything, I thought, to avoid going there. I think I meant that too. 

“I can’t,” I whispered, then recognised the familiar dread in my stomach. “I can’t. I can’t. I can't.”

Nora sighed heavily and stood up from beside me, stretching out her arms above her head. She had been sitting there beside me for the past seventeen minutes.

“I have to go, though.” She faced me. “Mum was expecting me to come home before noon because Dad needs help with something. Probably wanted me to sort out his old vinyls. And it's already afternoon so…”

I nodded slowly, very slowly. “Okay.”

“I can walk you to the art studio.” She suggested.

I couldn't open my mouth. What I did though was look around me, my eyes grasping at everything but her. This was really happening, I reminded myself. Not a dream. Or a nightmare. This is real, Lia. 

Then why did it not feel like it?

“Come on,” Nora said, gripping my arm and trying to pull me up from the couch. “The more you are left alone to think about this, the more you'll give yourself the chance to panic. Probably good if your parents see it, but I don't want to experience that again. A panic attack of yours.”

I let her pull me up and blindly followed her towards the coat stand right near the front door. It was just the both of us here in the house. Everyone else was gone; Mum was at the shop, Dad was at work, Mason at school, and Helen was busy working for some event at her university.

“Why...why would it be good if my parents saw me panicking?” I asked her in a whisper--a small, strained whisper. 

Nora handed me my coat, a long black one which I think was Helen's, and waited for me to put it on. It was big on me, but I didn't seem to care at that moment. I couldn’t when my head was already too full--quite literally. It felt like one of those times when I couldn't even think straight. I couldn't think because my brain felt overused. I didn't think my insides could handle any more complex emotions at that moment. I didn't think that was healthy, but what could I even do?

“It'll be good because they'll finally know how bad you're coping up with life.” She stated, pulling her hair into a ponytail as she finished shrugging on her own jacket. “They'll finally realise that you need help.”

“I don’t...I don’t need help.” I said, frowning. I think I was starting to feel a little hot and feverish.

“That's what I am saying!” Nora raised her hands in the air, then shook her head. “I can feel your nerves just by standing here, not even that close to you. It's horrible.”

I wanted to argue, but I couldn't. I just followed her out from the front door, wrapping my arms tightly around myself as we walked down the porch stairs and towards the wooden fence surrounding my house.

“Shouldn't I have changed into something else?” I asked Nora, still frowning. I was in last night's shirt, and some loose leggings. Technically, they were just like pyjamas for me. 

“No,” Nora announced and pushed open the fence. “Like I said, if you stayed in there for one more second, you would have exploded.”

I am exploding, I wanted to tell her. From the inside. But I didn't get the chance to say anything when I walked past the fence first and slammed into someone.

I would have toppled over if the person--that I just slammed into--hadn't grabbed my arms. 

“Noah.” I could hear the sneer in Nora's voice behind me. “What the hell are you doing here?”

It was Noah, looking like he had been out for a run. I pulled away when his hands on my arms started making me feel a little too hot in my coat, and not in a good way. 

“Oh, hey.” Noah was looking at Nora with a small, confused frown. Then his gaze was on me. I shuffled backwards and relaxed when I was right beside Nora. “Well, I came here to see Ophelia.”

I tensed up again. God, I didn't need this right now.

“Well, Ophelia is busy right now.” Nora sounded like she wanted to hit someone. I grimaced at the name, but it went unnoticed by both of them. “You should stop by later.”

No. No. Don't come here at all, I wanted to say.

“Okay,” Noah said, looking at me again. “All right. Where are you both headed off to anyway?”

Nora looked ready to snap, but she didn't. I heard her blowing out a long sigh.

“The art studio. Lia has to go see someone there. I've got to go back home and quite frankly Noah, you're kind of wasting both of our times.” She said.

Noah smiled at that, a little sheepishly. “Geez, okay. My bad.”

Nora nodded, satisfied. But for some reason, Noah didn’t seem like he’d be leaving anytime soon. And the way his gaze kept darting towards me, I had a feeling he wanted to talk to me about things that went down back at the festival. If I wasn't freaking out before, I was now. A little too much.

“You can meet me there, outside. In half an hour. I think I’ll be...done by then.” I blurted out, nearly grimacing again, and looked up at Noah. I don't know why I said that. Probably because I was embarrassed that I was running away from him every chance I got, and not confronting him about that kiss at the festival. Or perhaps, I said that because I needed him to leave. Waiting felt painful. My mind was reeling with so many scary scenarios. I figured saying that was the fastest way to make him leave.

Which he did. Leave, I mean.

“What was that?” Nora exclaimed in a whisper as we started walking away from my house. “Why is he all of a sudden taking interest in you? God, this is fucking creepy.”

“I don't know, Nora,” I gazed down at the pavement. “I don’t know.”

Nora and I had to part ways right as we reached the familiar street where the art studio was. She left for her house after making sure I wouldn't stall too much.

I didn’t stall. But my legs stopped right outside the familiar building. It was a small apartment-like studio, like most of the buildings here in this town.

And I couldn't move, I realised. Not when my heart started beating a little too loudly in my ears. Not when I could feel the sudden flight response kicking in. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to cry or laugh out loud at that moment.

Perhaps I was going insane.

I did want to laugh out loud at how pathetic this was. What was I doing here? What was I even thinking? That I would find him here? That Alastair would be here when he was supposed to be dead?

What was wrong with me?

How badly was it going to hurt when I went in there and my hopes were crushed all over again?

But Steph saw him. Steph saw him. How could she have seen him?

“Lia!” I jumped in surprise and stared at a smiling Andrea a few steps in front of me. She had just stepped past the glass doors and I hadn't even noticed. “What brought you here? Come on in! I waved at you from the front desk but I guess you seem a little distracted.”

Distracted.

“I'm sorry.” I rushed it out. “I can...leave if you're busy.”

She was shaking her head way before I could have completed my sentence. “No, no, of course not, honey. Come on in.”

I didn’t want to follow her inside. Something in me told me not to. Yet I couldn’t figure out whether it was just my gut instinct speaking up or my brain trying its hardest to protect that little hopeful part of me, to not let it get crushed all over again. With that hesitation still inside me, I slowly followed Andrea inside towards the small front desk where she went behind. 

I stuffed my hands in my coat pockets as my eyes wandered from one thing to another. I felt scared. Scared. Shaking. Cold. 

“So what brought you here?” Andrea glanced up at me with a wide, welcoming smile. Even the tiny paint splatters on her light blue t-shirt seemed welcoming. Everything was welcoming about her. But I wasn’t...I didn't know what I was doing here. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

I nodded, my eyes momentarily finding hers before darting to the wall behind her.

“Yeah. I just...I was just walking by and was free so I decided to come here. Again.” I said, forcing a small smile on my lips. She smiled back. “And to apologise for the last time I was here. I must’ve caused a scene back there. Shouldn’t have gotten...drunk.”

She waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. Steph, your friend, already apologized even if she shouldn’t have. She seems like such a talented kid, by the way. But I'm sure you already know that.” Andrea was back at arranging the mess of paintbrushes on the desk. “I’m glad you both visited. I wasn't expecting so many faces to show up at that small exhibit.”

I kept staring at her this time--maybe because she wasn’t looking back at me--not knowing that I was holding my breath until my insides started hurting.

“Andrea,” I started, and I think she heard the poorly concealed fear in my voice since concern flickered across her gaze. “I came here for Alastair too.”

It felt like I was there, but not really there at the same time. It felt absurd to say those words. Insane. I froze and expected her to look confused at that. She wasn't supposed to know someone named Alastair. She was supposed to tell me that she had no idea who he was.

Andrea didn't respond as fast as I had wanted.

“I'm sorry.” I blurted out, furrowing my brows just a little. “That was stupid of me. You get so many people here from time to time, and you probably wouldn't just remember everyone’s names.”

Not his. Not when he's dead. Not when he left me.

Andrea raised her eyebrows just a little. I think she looked a little surprised.

“Oh.” She said, then she was pulling away from the paintbrushes and fixing her narrowed gaze at me. “So you are Ophelia. I asked you earlier, didn’t I?”

I parted my lips to say something, but nothing came out.

“But that's all right.” I think there was sympathy in her smile. “Alastair told me that you don't like being called by that name.” I blinked at her. Thrice. I think everything was starting to blur a little around me. “He's not here, though. He went out but uh...Lia, honey, you went a little pale there.”

Leaning a little against the desk, I repeated her words. “He was here.” They felt heavy on my tongue. Heavy and numb. I felt numb.

Andrea nodded slowly, unsurely. “Yes. The apartment upstairs, he lives there.”

He lives there. 

“Oh.” A small, confused whisper escaped my lips. It was strange that I couldn't feel the anxiousness or the panic within me anymore. It just all felt blank. “Okay.”

This didn’t feel real anymore.

“So...he's going to come back,” I said, still staring at her. Poor Andrea looked a little, well, disturbed. Probably by the way I was acting. “Here.”

She nodded. “Yes, of course. You can wait here. I'm sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

Happy to see me. How could he be happy to see me? How could he even be here? Those thoughts seemed to be the only words ringing in my ears, going round and round in my head by the time I sat down on one of the couches in the studio. Andrea’s front desk was out of view. I slowly dragged a hand down my face. And then I breathed out a laugh in pure and utter disbelief.

My fingers were shaking.

I was losing my mind.

Leaning my head back against the couch, I closed my eyes.

How could this be happening? How was I supposed to explain this? How could Alastair be alive when I saw him dead? At that lake. I saw his body. The dead look in his grey eyes. The dead paleness on his frozen skin. Dead. Alastair was dead.

How come was he here then, in New York, in this town out of all the possible places? He would've told me, I thought. Alastair would have let me know if he was alive. He wouldn’t have left me like this. Not on purpose. He wouldn't have, right?

Why would he? Why would he go out of his way to pretend that he was dead when he wasn't, and not tell me? Why would he do that to me?

I felt my phone vibrate and took it out of my coat pocket. There was a text from Nora.

Nora: How's it going?

I lifted my fingers to type a reply but stopped. I didn't know what to say.

Me: fine.

Nora: yeah right. Did you see him? Is he there? Don’t lie.

I stared at my screen. I could feel my heart crawling up my gut, wanting to be let out. It was exhausting. I didn't think I could sit here any longer. I was scared to sit here any longer.

Me: i'll tell you when i get back home.

Somehow, I managed to switch off my phone and wait. I tried to wait. It felt horrible to just sit there, not knowing what the next second would bring. A few minutes later, I was ready to leave. Maybe Andrea wouldn't even ask me why I was leaving. She wouldn't stop me, though. She couldn't. 

I wanted to stay, I realised, but I didn't want to wait. Waiting was horrible. The anxiousness was increasing by the second and it was making me want to throw up.

Not that I had to. Wait anymore, I mean. I didn’t. Because right then, a pair of hushed voices broke me out of my thoughts, seeming to be coming from the front desk. I couldn't see Andrea from here. I just sat there, my eyes a little wide, waiting. 

I was glad, however, that I was sitting when someone stepped into my view. And it wasn't Andrea.

“Ophelia.” 

It was Alastair.

My Alastair.

I stared at him, wide-eyed, and gripped the couch on either side of me. I didn't notice my phone slipping down from my lap and onto the floor.

He was here. Right here. In front of me.

“Ophelia,” he repeated. I saw his eyes trailing down to my phone, which had just fallen down, and then they were back on me. He looked scared. “Hey, don’t...don't freak out again.”

Again. 

I think I knew what he meant. It wasn't that I was breathing too fast or too slow. I wasn't breathing at all. The air was just stuck in there somewhere in my lungs. It felt like it was all spinning but I'm pretty sure nothing was.

I stood up fast, glad that my legs could hold me up, and exhaled. I saw him walking towards me and a small, startled sound formed at the back of my throat. He stopped a foot away from me, looking alarmed. Almost as if he thought I was going to run away again.

What if I did? Runaway, I mean. A huge part of me did want me to run away. It’ll be fine if I run away. This, whatever this was, wouldn’t be able to get to me if I ran away.

I couldn't fathom what was happening right now. Nothing actually. Everything seemed unreal.

“You’re…” My eyes trailed down his face, then back into his eyes. “You're here.” His eyes, those beautiful grey eyes, they reminded me of that constant nightmare I'd been having for so long now. It was a horrible feeling.

“Of course, I’m here.” His voice was soft. His gaze too. But he didn’t step any closer. His hair, a tiny voice spoke in my head, his hair looked a little longer than the last time I saw him. The small lump in my throat felt painful. “You didn't believe me last time.”

I blinked, urging my eyes to stray away from him and around me. Everything was still the same around me. The same art studio Steph took me to. The same white walls. The same everything.

“Ophelia--”

“You're not supposed to be here.” I didn't mean to make it sound harsh, I really didn’t, but it must’ve come out like that when I saw his eyes widening again. In surprise. Maybe even confusion. “You're not...supposed to be alive.”

“I know,” Alastair murmured, his eyes not leaving me even for a second. Unlike me, he didn't sound harsh at all. It was taking a lot of me to keep reminding myself that this was real. He was real, wasn’t he?

I shook my head in disbelief. “You know. That's all you're going to say.”

“Ophelia--”

“Don’t.” I was glaring now, and there was this stinging feeling in my eyes. God, how long had it felt when I just wanted to hear him say my name one more time. How painful had that felt? Something was squeezing my throat and I was scared of crying. I didn't know what to feel when my eyes kept coming back to him, to his beautiful, familiar face--when I had to believe for so long that he was dead. Away from me. Gone. 

“Just don’t…” I trailed off, clenching my jaw this time. There was a small, unhappy furrow in between his brows. He looked so sad. And he was wearing that soft-looking sweater, I realised with a sharp inhale. So him. He was real. “Don't say anything. Just...just let me think.”

He didn't say anything. He was silent as I looked away from him, towards the plain white wall behind him. 

Alastair's here, I repeated in my head. And I kept repeating it until I felt a slow, painful tear rolling down my cheek and stopping near my chin. And then another escaped the corner of my eye. When I looked back at him, I wished I hadn't. I wished I hadn't seen the sad, broken look on his face. Because he hated when I cried. He still hated when I cried.

I pursed my lips when a tiny sob threatened to fall out.

“I can explain.” He whispered, almost pleading.

“What...” I exhaled a shudder and took a step closer towards him. My voice sounded dangerously on edge. “What will you explain? Do I even want you to explain?”

Alastair blinked in surprise, staring. He stared at me for a long time.

“Do you think I care about your stupid, pointless explanation?” I sounded angry. So fucking angry. “I don’t. I don’t care, Alastair. I hate you.”

He frowned at that. I think I did too. Because the moment those last three words slipped out of my lips, I realised how idiotic it was to even say that. I didn't hate him. How could I hate him when I was crying right now, seeing him after so long?

“Don't say that.” He raked a hand through his already dishevelled hair, shaking his head just a little, sounding a little pained. “I understand that you're angry with me, and I don't blame you. I would be too if I were in your place. But you've got to let me explain, Ophelia. Just hear me out. You can...you can hate me after that.”

I stared at him. It had been so long, I realised. Each night, after I came back from Oak Valley, I wished to see him just one more time. Not a picture. Not a memory. I had just wanted to see him one last time. Ask him why. Even if that hadn't felt possible just a day ago. 

But he was here now. He was standing right in front of me, for me to reach out and touch him. He wasn’t dead. I didn’t have to move on, the same tiny voice spoke in my head. I didn’t have to fall apart anymore.

I would’ve probably nodded right then, to let him know that I would hear him out, even if nothing felt okay right now. But I didn't get to. Not when Andrea popped her head from around the corner.

“Lia,” she spoke up, interrupting us both. “There's someone out here looking for you.”

For a tiny second, I had this scary, horrible thought that this all had been fake. In my head. And that Alastair, the one standing right in front of me, wasn't even real. Not until my eyes found his grey ones once again, even when he was looking at Andrea--and not me--with a tiny frown.

“So sorry for interrupting.” She looked at us with a small sheepish smile. “It's just that--”

“Ophelia!” 

I don’t know why, out of all the fucking things, I felt myself relaxing just a tiny bit when I heard Noah’s voice, right as he stepped out from behind Andrea. Maybe it was because he was someone my brain could easily comprehend. He was normal. Someone my head could actually wrap around. 

I saw Noah’s gaze fixing on me, and then drifting over to Alastair.

“You ready to go?” Noah looked back at me, his eyes seeming to linger on Alastair for a few seconds longer than necessary. “I thought you said you're gonna be here for half an hour only.”

Oh. 

I furrowed my brows, then sniffled a little. “Yeah. I...I'll be out in a second, Noah.”

Andrea left us to it. Noah didn't. I wished he did though. Especially when Alastair's eyes found mine once again and I noticed the sudden confusion in them. He looked hurt. And he wasn't even trying to hide it. I don't know why that made me want to tear up again. Because I still couldn’t believe this. That he was here.

“I…” I glanced at Noah, nervously fidgeting a little. I lowered my voice then, turning a little towards Alastair, “You should call me.” I picked up my phone from the floor and one of the colourful markers from the white mug that had been sitting on the small coffee table beside the couch. Noah was watching, I realised. And that might’ve irritated me if I wasn’t already a giant bundle of emotions right now. I didn't let myself think twice before grabbing Alastair’s hand and scribbling my number on it. He must already have my number, but I still gave it to him. 

Maybe he didn’t have it anymore, another voice spoke in my head. Maybe that was why he wasn’t able to contact me before. Maybe that was just it.

Once I was done, a little too painfully aware of his hand’s warmth, I pulled my hand away from his but was stopped when he grabbed my wrist.

“You're leaving?” He asked. And it wasn’t just the hurt in his eyes. I could hear it in his voice too. So painfully obvious. And real.

It took me a moment to break out from the staring, my eyes slowly darting across his face, trying to carve it to my memory--scared that it might vanish again. I cleared my throat then, slowly pulling myself away from his hold. His gaze momentarily drifted down to my hand and then back at me, still frowning.

“Yes.” I managed a whisper and took a step away. “Call me later.”

And then I walked away from him.

--------
fun fact: my angsty lil heart did want to make it all in Ophelia's head initially. alastair was supposed to remain dead and dead forever. Idk how i changed my mind??

(some of you amazing ppl have been asking me what exactly is my updating schedule for this book. that, and I cleared up a few more constant qs. head to my insta's latest post for that. love you all <3)

Crystal Xx