Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
When we reach the visitation area, the guard turns to look at me. "Are you ready?"
I take a deep breath and nod.
She gives me a reassuring smile and then buzzes us through into the visitation area. It's as nondescript as the rest of the prison. Cinderblock walls separate each visitation booth, with flimsy plastic chairs on each side of the thick window. The bottom of the window has a small vent, allowing those on each side to communicate with one another while ensuring nothing can be passed through. Not that there's even a possibility of that. Cam and I had to hand over everything before they even let us into the waiting area.
My heart leaps into my throat when I see Erin sitting in the fifth booth, staring down at her lap. Her hair is a lot shorter than it used to be. It's stringy, too, like she hasn't seen a good bottle of shampoo in a long time. She's lost weight since I last saw her. Not a lot, but enough that it shows. Beneath the fluorescent lights, her skin looks sallow. The bright orange scrubs she's wearing don't help her coloring. She looks so different than the girl I used to know.
I take tentative steps forward before sliding into the flimsy plastic chair.
Erin glances up when I'm seated, her blue eyes locking on me.
For a long moment, neither of us says anything. We just stare at each other. A thousand memories of her run through my head. Some of them are of happier times, like when we roomed together and would stay up all night, talking and laughing. Others are darker, like the day she told me how lucky I was to be me. Memories of Cam finding me in the hallway after she shot me are the darkest.
"Hi," she whispers eventually.
"Hi," I whisper back.
She licks her lips, her nervousness apparent. "How are you?"
"I'm okay."
"I'm really glad," she says, and I think she actually means it.
We subside into silence again. Now that I'm here, I don't know what to say to her. Nothing seems adequate enough to describe the conflicting emotions I feel when I think about her. I don't know the right words to explain how much she hurt me, or how many times Cam had to console me when something seemingly innocuous brought me to tears. She pretended to be me to satisfy her own insecurities, and she destroyed me in the process. I don't think she ever even considered how I would feel about that or what it would do to me.
"This is awkward," she blurts out and then cringes when I flinch, the sound of her voice startling me. "I'm sorry," she whispers, looking down at her hands again.
"It's fine," I lie even though it's really not.
"No, it isn't." She shakes her head and then looks up at me again, tears shining in her eyes. "I've thought a million times about what to say to you if I ever saw you again, and I still don't know how to say I'm sorry for what I did to you. Nothing seems right, you know? I did something terrible and hurt you." She swallows hard. "I never meant to hurt you, Ivy."
"But you did," I tell her, clearing my throat. "You shot me."
"I know." A tear rolls down her cheek. "I don't even know why I did it. I just wanted to stop you from telling everyone what I did. I wish I could take that moment back, but I can't. You were my best friend, and I shot you. I have to live with that for the rest of my life. But I am sorry," she whispers, crying openly now. "I'm so, so sorry."
I watch her for a moment. It's strange. At one time in my life, anytime she cried, I wanted to cry too. I felt her pain, and it made my heart ache. But I don't feel that sorrow now. I just feel…relieved. That she's in here and I'm not. That the nightmare really is over, and she can't hurt anyone else.
She used to be my best friend, and then she tried to destroy me. That will always be a little sad to me, but I don't wish we could go back anymore. I had to learn to live without her because she didn't give me a choice. Somewhere along the way, I learned how to survive. I learned how to be me again. And seeing her doesn't hurt like I thought it would.
I'm stronger now. She made me that way.
"I forgive you," I say quietly.
She looks up at me again, her mouth opening and closing.
"I don't understand why you did it," I continue, "and I don't think I ever will. You hurt me more than anyone has ever hurt me before and that will never be okay. You were my best friend, and you almost destroyed me. I still can't drive over the Bay Bridge without wondering where Rory jumped from, or if he knows that I'm not the one who told him to do it. I can't walk into a room of strangers without someone recognizing me as the woman from the papers. I can't look in the mirror without seeing the damage you caused. I had to leave my home and my job because of you. I couldn't even pack my own apartment. Cam had to do it for me because I couldn't stop crying long enough."