Eighteen months ago, our other best friend, Casey Black, shed light on what had really happened that night. No one had any clue that she’d even been there when the accident had taken place—much less that she had been driving the car. Her on-again, off-again fling, Eli Tanner, had helped her leave the scene unnoticed. However, before her shocking confession, I’d lived with that guilt. I knew how it felt to be consumed by it.
The pain of waking up every day knowing what I’d done was crippling. I hated myself, I hated my life, and I hated the very air in my lungs that was absent from Manda’s. I didn’t even know who I was anymore. I had every memory from my old life but none of the emotions to match them. I didn’t get nostalgic when I thought about the past; I felt nothing. The emptiness was agonizing. The only feelings I could remember were attached to the memories of Manda, and she was gone. I couldn’t even remember how it felt to be happy, much less how to find it again.
My husband at the time, Brett, fought to save me from myself, but it only made me more anxious and confused. I was supposed to love him. I knew that. But I couldn’t figure out why, and I loathed myself so much that I couldn’t rationalize why he would want to love me. But he did it anyway.
Over those first four years after the accident, I did a lot of things I’m not proud of. I hurt everyone who had ever loved me. As selfish as it sounds, I just needed some way to escape the pain. There was a barrage of people huddled around me, showing me unconditional love, but I felt virtually nothing for them in return. I pushed away my family and friends as I hid from reality. They just couldn’t understand the person I’d become overnight. Hell, I couldn’t understand it myself. So when it became more than I could bear, I finally decided to end it all.
I survived my every attempt at taking my own life mainly because Brett was absolutely unwilling to let me go. Until, one day, he wasn’t. The day Brett Sharp let me go was the same day I hit rock bottom. Coincidentally, it was also the day I was given back my life.
I did a lot of terrible things to the people who loved the old Sarah—especially Brett. He didn’t deserve everything I put him through. I was utterly horrible. I’m not too fucked up to be able to recognize that. Even while it was happening, I knew the things I was doing were wrong, but my life had spiraled out of control. Hate and abuse were the only ways I felt I could convey my inner misery.
I don't make excuses for what I did or the people I hurt. Those actions were my own. I chose them—even if it wasn’t with a sound mind. That woman fired a gun at the only person to stand by her side—that is what I am capable of. I may not be her anymore, but she still lives inside me. And that alone terrifies me more than anything else.
So, yeah. I’m a real catch. Leo James should count his lucky stars that he got called away for work. He figuratively, and maybe even literally, dodged a bullet tonight.
"So what do you say? Me, you, Caleb, Leo—double date?" Emma asks while making kissy faces, snapping me out of my inner pity party.
"Nah. I think I’m going to pass. He wasn’t all that good-looking anyway," I answer flippantly.
"Shut up. I believe your exact words were, ‘fuck-hot,’" she says, tossing a pair of air quotes in my direction.
"I lied," I snap, rolling my eyes.
Leo: cricket cricket
Peeking over my shoulder to read Leo’s latest text, Emma says, "Well, he’s persistent."
"I don’t want go out tomorrow night," I whine.
"Say whatever the hell you want, Sarah, but you were stoked when he asked you out."
"I was just excited. I didn’t think it through. Maybe I should talk to one of my counselors before I jump right back into the dating world." I cautiously turn to look at her, knowing she’s not going to be happy with that answer.
She curls her lip in disgust. "Seriously?"
"Yeah, seriously," I answer as my phone starts ringing in my lap. "Shit," I mumble to myself.
Emma starts laughing when she sees Leo’s name flashing on my screen. I groan but click the little green button.
"Hello?"
"YOU GONNA answer my text?" I ask as soon as I hear Sarah’s sultry voice across the line.
"Yeah. I was just busy. That’s all," she responds, but I can hear a woman laughing in the background.
"Look, I’ll be out of the loop the rest of the night, so I just wanted to make sure you were good for tomorrow night." I pull into the underground parking garage at my apartment.
I was on my way back from the florist when I got an emergency call from Johnson. Some celebrity client decided to make a stop over in Chicago to hit one of the strip clubs. He wants a full security detail, and with two guys on vacation, I’m understaffed. I love my job, but as I walk upstairs with flowers in hand, I absolutely resent the interruption.
"Sarah?" I question when she doesn’t respond.
"I’m here. I’ll have to let you know about tomorrow. I just started that new job, and…you know."
"You work on Saturdays?" I ask, knowing that the Tribune doesn’t have office hours on the weekend.
"Well, no," she answers nervously, and I hear more laughing in the background.