They say darkness finds a hopeless soul, and I have to admit it has been a very, very long time since there has been any hope in my heart. Darkness creeps in little by little, like long shadows at the end of a warm summer's day. Doctor Browne says people with depression cannot imagine a future, and in a way I suppose this is true. Since Shayne left, I cannot imagine my future. Sometimes I cannot see beyond the wall of night, which separates one day from the other.
In the past months, I have stayed hidden in my room, and now Salem is my best friend in the whole, entire world, even more important than Sophia. Like my parents, Sophia imagines I can just scrub my brain clean. Take an eraser and wipe away the memories, but I cannot. Maybe there is something wrong with me. There must be, if everyone seems to think I am staying stuck in my memories on purpose. I am tired of people saying, life is what you make of it, because, for me, it is not.
For months, I denied it even happened, so how could I even have tried to imagine anything would get better, if I could not even face the truth. Every night, as I curled up with Salem, I would tell him how awful Shayne was being, just disappearing from my life. How he broke my heart so badly, it was too painful to even take deep breaths. For months, it felt as if he was still around, somewhere, but just not with me. For brief moments, I would consider sending him a text, but then my mind would just go blank and think of something else. It was as if my entire being lived in denial. My mind could not handle the intense pain of even contemplating the very idea of the truth, and my mind buffered the shock, by blocking out words and hiding me from the facts.
Then I got angry. Mostly, I was angry at Shayne. I resented Shayne for causing me such immense pain, and then I felt guilty, which made me even more angry with him. I got angry for waiting for answers, I knew I would never get. I could feel the rage burning in my stomach. I sat alone in my room, in my bed, taking my anger out on Salem. Refusing to let him get up onto my bed. Then, I got angry with me because I should have known, I could have done more, I should have seen it happening. How did I not see it coming?
But, then after a day or so, I would go back to denial, and apologise to Salem, letting him back onto my bed, and hugging him close as if I could transfer my pain to him. The pain was just too much to bear on my own. His purring would fill my mind with a sense of peace, and those were the only times I could fall asleep. His calm presence deflected my intense emotions away from my vulnerable heart.