Torn

Chapter 27

All I Want

Ben’s Journal

A bottle of Jack later, and here I am. My life is a mess. I don’t even know how to get my life together anymore. How fucking pathetic. One minute Mom was concerned about Trent and the next she was gone. There’s no one to blame but me. I can’t help but wonder if she’d still be here today if I would have stayed buried. Was the stress of my return too much for her body to take? I can’t believe she’s gone.

And now Caleb is leaving. He took a job with the FBI, so I have no one. Plus, my sister is pissed as hell at me. And Dahl—I’ve really lost her. I even tried to call Kimberly, but she shot me down. Before she hung up she told me to call her when I wasn’t drunk and could tell her where I was. She never used to be so demanding.

My life is full of epic mistakes, one bad decision after the other. I don’t even know which one came first anymore or which one was worse—chasing notoriety and paying the consequences, coming back and thinking I could pick up where I left off, or cheating on a girl who loved me unconditionally, a girl who didn’t deserve it, and then watching her choose someone else over me.

After Mom died and I watched Dahl turn to him for support, I needed to get out . . . to forget everything. So I did. I don’t remember much except that I drank until the pain felt like it belonged to someone else and then I went home with some girl. And just like it once used to—the sex helped me forget. Even for a little while.

I was so drunk that I passed out in her bed. Fuck, I never stayed the night with a chick that was only a fast lay. Then there was no need for the awkward morning conversation. But this time I woke up to my phone ringing. Still feeling drunk, I checked my messages. Listening to them, I instantly sobered up. My sister had left six messages. I was supposed to meet her to make funeral arrangements. I had no idea what the girl’s name was, but I told her she had to drive me back to my car. I had to get there. My mom would want me to be strong. I couldn’t disappoint her again—I had enough guilt.

Just as I thought she’d be, Dahlia was there. I apologized again but I no longer believe she will forgive me. I gave her the journal and I hope one day she’ll read it and at least know I really did love her.