TILL MY LAST BREATH

CHAPTER 9: ALMOST FORGOTTEN

The days came by faster after that and I didn't have a hold of anything around me anymore. Everything became quieter than usual. It was like almost everyone was avoiding my very existence—trying not to breathe the same air I did. Well that was technically impossible but determined people can do the unthinkable. School became a routine I moved through without thinking. I arrived early, sat by the window, copied notes, smiled when I needed to, and disappeared when I didn’t.

No one noticed much. That was both a relief and a sadness.

Sarah still walked with me sometimes, though I could tell she was learning when to give me space. We talked about assignments, teachers, and other stuff that did not matter. She stopped asking about my aunt or about Dale. I think she realized how uncomfortable both topics made me.

One afternoon, as the final bell rang, I moved to my locker, packing my books slowly. The hallway was crowded as everyone rushed to leave for home since it was Friday and basically a day to party to your heart's content or do whatever you've been craving from the beginning of the week. I also quickly made my way past the hallway to the courtyard and that's when I froze.

I saw him. Dale.

He stood near the parking lot, his hands full with Brittany’s shopping bags. She was talking and laughing, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and he was smiling so brightly at her. The kind he never gave me.

He looked happy. Peaceful. Like he had never done anything wrong. Like he had never broken me and watched me try to pretend I was fine.

I stood there watching him for too long. "He looks so handsome under the sunlight". I murmured as I continued staring at him directly.

Then Brittany reached out and touched his arm. He leaned closer to listen, and they both laughed at something I could not hear.

I wanted to look away, but my eyes stayed locked on them. It was as if I needed to memorize this pain one more time before I could finally let it go. My throat tightened. My chest ached with the familiar mix of love and disgust I had learned to carry.

Sarah appeared beside me without a word. She followed my gaze, then sighed softly. “You can't keep doing this to yourself.”

I did not answer. I could not.

“He’s not worth it, Rain,” she said quietly.

“I....I know, but I just can't help it” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

We stood there for awhile before I finally looked away. When I turned, I caught my reflection in the glass of the classroom door. My eyes looked tired, maybe because of the countless tears and sleepless nights I've had all in the name of Dale.

“I think I’m done,” I said softly, more to myself than to her. “This time, for real.”

Sarah did not believe me, but she nodded anyway.

---

That night, the house was silent except for the sound of rain tapping against the roof. My aunt had gone out for the evening, leaving me alone for the first time in weeks.

I sat on my bed with a blank sheet of paper in front of me. My pen hovered above it for a long time before I finally wrote down something. Just seeing it again made my stomach twist. It was his name. Dale.

I did not know what I wanted to say. I had already written him too many letters, all of them left unread, torn apart, or burned. Still, something in me needed to write, even if he wasn't gonna read it.

You looked happy today.

I hope she never sees the sides of you that I did.

I hope she never learns how easily you can ruin someone and still sleep at night.

I hope I forget you.

I stopped there. The words blurred as tears filled my eyes. I tore the paper in half, then into smaller pieces until it was nothing but confetti on the floor. Watching them fall felt like watching the last pieces of what I used to feel scatter into nothing.

“I’m done,” I whispered again. “It’s over.”

It sounded brave in the dark, but my voice trembled.

I walked to the window and looked out at the rain. I pressed my hand to the glass, feeling the coolness seep into my skin.

"This is for the best". I whispered to myself.

---

The following week, I avoided the courtyard. I took longer routes between classes, sat on the far side of the cafeteria, and kept my headphones in even when the music wasn’t playing. I was learning how to disappear gracefully.

Every now and then, I caught glimpses of him — a flash of his jacket in the hallway, his voice echoing down the corridor. Each time, my stomach turned, but it did not break me anymore. The ache was still there, but it was dull now, like a scar that only hurt when pressed.

I was making progress and I was happy about it.

Sarah noticed the difference. “You’re smiling again,” she said one morning as we walked to class.

“Am I?” I asked feigning ignorance.

She nodded. “It’s small, but it’s there. It looks real this time.”

"Really? You think so?" I asked with a mix of anxiety and excitement.

She gave me a slight nod and my heart felt so full in that moment. This was the encouragement I needed.

But truth be told, I was still scared and prayed everyday that my newly found courage wouldn't die out on me one day.

---

On Friday, I stayed late after school to help clean the art room. The smell of paint and chalk dust filled the air. I liked it there. It was quiet, and no one asked questions.

When I finished, the sun had already set. I walked home slowly, watching my shadow stretch across the pavement under the streetlights. The evening breeze was cool, brushing against my skin.

As I turned the corner to my street, I saw an old couple walking hand in hand. The sight made something twist in my chest — a strange mixture of longing and hope.

Maybe one day, I thought, I’ll find something like that. Something that would give me joy and not pain.

At home, my aunt was in the living room watching television. She barely looked at me as I walked in. I went straight to my room and changed into my nightclothes.

I sat on my mattress, opened my notebook, and began to write again. This time, not about Dale. Not about pain. Just words. Little things I wanted to remember.

The way the rain sounded on the roof tonight.

Sarah’s laugh when I told her my drawing looked like a potato.

The couple holding hands.

The beautiful sunset.

They were small things, but they managed to bring warmth to my heart.

---

A few days later, I walked past Dale in the hallway. He was alone this time, scrolling through his phone. For a moment, our eyes almost met, but I looked away before he could see me.

My heart raced at the thought of nearly been seen by him and probably get mocked at like he always did. My throat tightened as I thought of that alternate reality. But I was going to escape this vicious cycle at all cost.

For the first time, I realized that maybe forgetting is not something that happens all at once. Maybe it is something that happens quietly and gradually — when you stop checking their social media, when you stop replaying the same memories at night, when their name no longer aches your heart.

That night, as I lay in bed, I thought about the promise I made to myself, that it was over, that I was done. I wanted to believe it. I whispered it like a desperate prayer.

“It’s over,” I said. “It has to be.”

But deep down, a part of me still reached for him in my sleep. In dreams, I still heard his voice calling my name, gentle and cruel all at once. In reality, I was still the girl who loved him, yet was left behind and humiliated.