by Ashley Royer
BLINK
Remember to Forget, Revised and Expanded Edition
Copyright © 2016 by Ashley Royer
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ePub Edition © February 2016: ISBN 978-0-310-75183-0
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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BLINK™ is a registered trademark of the Zondervan Corporation.
Cover design: Cindy Davis
Cover photography: Shutterstock
Interior design: Kait Lamphere
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Contents
Prologue: Levi
Chapter One: Levi
Chapter Two: Levi
Chapter Three: Levi
Chapter Four: Levi
Chapter Five: Delilah
Chapter Six: Levi
Chapter Seven: Delilah
Chapter Eight: Levi
Chapter Nine: Levi
Chapter Ten: Delilah
Chapter Eleven: Levi
Chapter Twelve: Levi
Chapter Thirteen: Delilah
Chapter Fourteen: Levi
Chapter Fifteen: Levi
Chapter Sixteen: Levi
Chapter Seventeen: Delilah
Chapter Eighteen: Levi
Chapter Nineteen: Delilah
Chapter Twenty: Levi
Chapter Twenty-One: Levi
Chapter Twenty-Two: Delilah
Chapter Twenty-Three: Delilah
Chapter Twenty-Four: Levi
Chapter Twenty-Five: Levi
Chapter Twenty-Six: Delilah
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Levi
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Delilah
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Levi
Chapter Thirty: Levi
Chapter Thirty-One: Levi
Chapter Thirty-Two: Levi
Chapter Thirty-Three: Delilah
Chapter Thirty-Four: Levi
Chapter Thirty-Five: Delilah
Chapter Thirty-Six: Levi
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Delilah
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Levi
Chapter Thirty-Nine: Levi
Chapter Forty: Levi
Chapter Forty-One: Levi
Chapter Forty-Two: Levi
Chapter Forty-Three: Levi
Chapter Forty-Four: Levi
Chapter Forty-Five: Levi
Chapter Forty-Six: Levi
Chapter Forty-Seven: Levi
I’d like to thank everyone who has been with me through the writing of this book. Without your support, comments, and messages, I would not have made it this far. I love you all.
Prologue
LEVI
When I was younger, I loved when it rained. I liked running outside and jumping in the puddles and splashing through the streets. If there was thunder and lightning, I would perch my five-year-old self onto the windowsill, face pressed against the glass, to look outside. I’d count the seconds between each boom and flash to see how far away the storm was.
Every other little kid at school would scribble smiling suns or clear blue skies, but when I drew pictures, I would always draw rain.
My mum questioned me every time I brought home drawings. I’d happily show her my art, proud of what I’d done. I didn’t get why she constantly told me to draw sunshine. I liked the rain. I thought everybody liked the rain. I continued to draw storms, as backgrounds for smiling people holding balloons or maybe a picture of a dog. I wanted them to be happy like me, and rain made me happy.
I never really understood why I was so fascinated by it, I just was. My favorite part was looking for a rainbow afterward. I always wanted to find the end, but I obviously never did. But to young Levi, the end of the rainbow seemed close, like I could run out and catch it, like it was part of some scavenger hunt. The older I got, the sooner I’d end my search. Until one day, I just gave up and stopped trying, knowing I would never find the end.
That’s the situation I’m in right now. I’m seventeen years old, no longer a young kid dreaming about where a rainbow could lead. I watch the rain from inside, but that’s about it.
Most guys my age are out with girls or playing sports or doing who knows what. Not me. For the past few months, I’ve been trapped inside my body and mind, stuck in an inescapable void I created myself. I have no hopes of leaving, though attempts are always made. With each step away from the emptiness inside me, I’m pulled two steps back. There’s no escape from myself or my thoughts.
I haven’t seen the rainbow at the end of the storm in a long time. I’m beginning to wonder if there ever really was one.
Chapter One
LEVI
Levi, come out! We have to talk about this!” my mum says from outside my room. I’m sitting on the cold wood floor, my knees hugged to my chest as I lean on the door. I dig my teeth into my bottom lip, the harsh pain sinking in quickly. I bite deeper until the only thing I feel is the slight vibrations beneath my teeth.
“Please, just let me in,” she begs. “This hurts me as much as it hurts you.”
I take a deep breath and slowly stand, my hand wavering above the knob for a few seconds before I twist the lock. I walk over to my bed and wait for my mum to walk in, and when she does, she looks tired and upset. Her eyes appear heavy and her lips are turned into a frown. All of this seems to have aged her twenty years. She looks at me, and I look at her, neither of us saying anything. But she expects that from me.
“I don’t want to do this to you, Levi. But it’s the only choice we have left,” she says, sitting down beside me. I don’t look at her. I nervously crack my knuckles. She sighs. “Your flight leaves in two days. I wish I could come, but I can’t.” I stare blankly ahead. “This is what’s best for us, for you. Your father and I”—she pauses, her voice cracking—“we just want you to be happy again.”
And with that, I leave my room and run down the stairs and out the front door. I slam it behind me, and the cold rain instantly pelts my skin once I’m outside, but I don’t care. I continue walking down the dark street. The street lights are the only source of any brightness. I kick a pebble that’s in front of me and hear it splash into a puddle.
I hate this.
How could my parents do this to me? They want me to move from Australia to go l
ive with my dad in Maine. Moving all the way to America to live with Dad doesn’t seem like the solution to my many problems. I barely know him, and I’m entirely sure he doesn’t know anything about me. I haven’t seen him for three years. All I’ve gotten are some cards and presents on holidays.
He moved when I was fourteen years old. At the time, everything was perfect. Perfect family, perfect friends, perfect life. All I did was go to school, eat, sleep, and play video games. What could have been better? I wish I could go back to when everything was simple.
Nothing has been simple for a while.
My mum told me I’m leaving for many reasons. One being that I need a break from all the things I’m too familiar with. She also thinks I need new experiences. It all comes down to the fact I can’t be around things that make me remember Delia. Mum wants me to forget, everyone wants me to forget. But how can I forget everything about the one person I really cared for? It’s not like I can just remove her from my brain and everything will magically be okay.
I’ll have to meet new people who know nothing about me. That could be a good thing, but it could also be a bad thing. Not to mention the new therapists and doctors who will have to learn everything about me. I don’t want to go through that process again. All of the questions and answers, forms and tests—I hate it. I was finally comfortable with all of my doctors, and now I’ll have to start all over.
I pull my hood over my head and stuff my hands far into my pockets as I continue to think. I sigh heavily, wishing that things were different. Somehow, someway, I want things back to how they once were. How did life get to be this terrible?
“Splendiferous,” I say, the word rolling off my tongue. “Today is going to be splendiferous.”
“You’re splendiferous,” Delia says, smiling. I look over at her and see her dimpled cheeks as she smiles. She bites her tongue a little; she always does when she smiles widely.
I blink quickly and rub my eyes furiously, trying to make the flashback stop. It’s all so vivid in my mind, like it happened yesterday.
But it didn’t. It happened six months ago. One hundred eighty-two days, to be exact.
It was the last time I saw her smile like that.
Every single day, I wish I didn’t wake up. I wish things were different. I wish she was here with me, but she’s not.
I sit on the curb, suddenly overcome with dizziness. This always happens when I think too much, usually about the incident. And I think about it a lot. The quietest people have the loudest minds, and mine is screaming for help, but my lips don’t move.
I shake my head and place it in my hands, feeling the rain pound down on me. I stick my hand out and catch some falling water, watching it trickle through the small cracks between my fingers. I open up my cupped hand and watch the water drop to the ground, splashing once it hits the pavement. It’s like feeling on top of the world, where nothing can touch you, but suddenly the world opens up beneath you and you fall quickly. Everything changes. You’re suddenly at the bottom, watching everyone live life above you while you’re stuck in a puddle.
That’s what I feel like.
I wonder what it’s like to not feel the rain on your skin or to not hear the sound of it falling. I wonder what it’s like to take your final breath. I wonder about a lot of things.
Most of my time is spent wondering.
A car drives by, slowing to a stop in front of me. The lights blind me for a second, but I quickly adjust to the brightness and figure out who it is. The familiar chipped navy paint and the dent that looks like a ghost make the vehicle immediately recognizable.
“Get in the car,” Caleb says once he rolls down the window. He always seems to know whenever I run out of the house or get into any sort of trouble. And he’s always the one to come get me.
I roll my eyes and get inside, turning off the radio. As usual, Caleb has his music playing loudly. It annoys me how he can enjoy something so much.
I don’t really like Caleb most of the time because he reminds me of things I don’t want to remember, but he tolerates me, so I tolerate him. He seems to be the only one who can.
He looks over at me and sighs. “Had a fight with your mum again?”
I nod, not looking up at him.
“Did she tell you about moving?” he asks. I look up at him, confused. How did he find out before me? “She wanted to know what I thought about it all,” he says. He always knows what I’m thinking, and I don’t really understand how he does.
I ball my hands into fists, my knuckles turning white. Caleb knew and didn’t tell me? I look over at him, my glare venomous.
“Look, Levi,” he says, turning down the street, “I want my best friend back. And I know this whole thing sucks, but nothing has helped so far. This might, okay?”
I sigh and look out the window, watching the rain slide down the smooth glass. I wonder what it’s like to be a raindrop. I bet they pretend to race down the windows. I wonder if their life only lasts a few seconds, and if they die once they hit the ground.
I wish I were a raindrop. I bet they don’t worry.
Caleb continues to talk about stuff, but I zone out. I block out his talking all the time, and he knows that, but continues anyways. He never gives up. It drives me crazy.
Once again I find myself thinking of living in Maine. It’s thousands of miles from Australia, where I’ve lived my whole life. I don’t understand how moving so far away will help. If anything, it may make matters worse. Nothing will help me, it never will. They could send me to Mars, and I still wouldn’t change. People can’t be fixed once they’re broken. They are like shattered glass, a bunch of tiny pieces that can’t be taped back together. Invisible, sharp, and crushed. Even if I wanted to fix myself and put the pieces I have back together, I couldn’t.
“Levi? Levi!” Caleb says, snapping me out of my thoughts. I look over at him, turning my neck sharply to show my annoyance. I glare at him fiercely and wait for him to start talking. “As I was saying,” he says, “I think you should just go there and have no previous perceptions of it all. Just have an open mind, it’ll be okay.”
It’ll be okay.
That’s what everyone said six months ago, and they continue to say that. Do I seem like everything’s okay? No. Nothing will ever be okay.
“And,” Caleb adds, “Delia would want you to do this. She would want you to be happy.”
I flinch at the mention of her name and bite my bottom lip nervously. All she ever wanted was for me to be happy, but look where I am now.
“Sorry, I didn’t . . . You know . . . I’m sorry,” Caleb says, fumbling with his words.
I look away from him again and try to forget, like I always do. Just try to forget what I always remember.
“What should we do?” Caleb asks quietly to change the subject. He taps his fingers against the steering wheel and bites his lip. “I know you don’t want to go back home.”
I shrug. He knew I would respond with that, but he asked anyway.
“What about some pizza? Are you hungry?” he asks me.
I shrug again.
“Okay, pizza it is.”
We drive the rest of the way in
silence; the only sound is the rain against the car and the tires rolling on the pavement. As loud as it may be, nothing is ever loud enough to drown out my thoughts. I will always be left with all of my thoughts deafening me.
Once we get to the pizza place, Caleb orders for both of us, like always. He knows exactly what I want: a large Coke and a pepperoni pizza. I sit at a high table and wait, watching him lean against the counter and fold the receipt neatly. His brow is furrowed as he waits, like something is bothering him.
I bet it’s me. I’m a bother to everyone.
He sits across from me once the pizza is ready, picking up a slice full of cheese that stretches high until it breaks. He smiles and licks some sauce off of his thumb before taking a bite.
“Are you gonna eat any?” he asks with his mouth full, nodding to the pizza.
I reach for a slice, even though I’m not hungry. I rarely ever am.
“When do you leave?” Caleb asks.
I sip my soda and pull my phone out of my pocket and type something quickly. Caleb waits for my response and puts his pizza down.
A monotonous robotic voice comes out of my phone, reading what I had previously typed. “I leave in two days. How far away is Maine?”
Caleb bites his lip and thinks. “I dunno. Definitely really far, though.”
I type again. “Isn’t Maine cold?”
“Yeah,” Caleb says. “Like your heart.”
I roll my eyes and glare at him. He puts his hands up to defend himself.
“Anyways,” the robotic voice reads, “I’m glad it will be cold. I hate this hot weather. Maybe I can freeze to death.”
“You don’t mean that,” Caleb says.
I nod and raise my eyebrows at him.
I mean everything I say.
Or, to be exact, don’t say.
Because the last time I talked was one hundred seventy-nine days ago.