Depression's End, Young Love's Start

Chapter 10

I'd stayed holed up in my apartment for five straight days.

The online backlash hadn't let up at all.

Wild rumors, half-truths, and outright lies kept popping up left and right, each one more absurd than the last. Overnight, Abigail Morrow had become the most hated name on the internet.

It was one huge, ugly feeding frenzy for everyone online.

Isaac had taken my phone away. He was scared that all the hate comments would push me over the edge. "Abigail, the company wants you to lay low for a while. Once the hype dies down, we'll clear everything up one thing at a time."

Guilt flickered across his face as he spoke.

He couldn't bring himself to tell me the truth. For whatever reason, the higher-ups at the company had already written me off.

I was in no shape to handle another blow right now.

I was gaunt and pale, my jawline sharp.

I paused, then nodded numbly. "Whatever the company says."

Then something clicked. "Isaac, can I have my phone back? I still have to post today's radio segment."

Isaac hesitated. "Abigail... maybe you should put the show on hold for a while."

My Twitter feed was already flooded with hate accounts and trolls.

But I just stared at him, stubborn.

Isaac caved. He sighed and pulled out my phone.

I hit record. "How's everyone doing today? Today's letter comes from a young girl. Dear Abigail, my name is Karen Ochs. I'm 17. My mom says once I finish high school, I have to get a job and save up for my little brother's wedding and house. I don't want to, so my dad hits me every day... I'm so tired, Abigail. I don't wanna live anymore. Why would my parents have me if they don't love me? Maybe I was just a mistake..."

I finished reading and went quiet for a beat. Then I spoke. "Karen, I think it's normal to feel like you don't wanna live sometimes. But I need you to hear this—you can't give up. There have been so many times I'm glad I didn't end things when I wanted to. You're only 17. Your parents aren't your whole life. There are so many better people and better things waiting for you down the line. Stay alive, Karen. Once you learn to love yourself, you'll find someone who treats you like you're the most important thing in the world."

Right as I hit post and closed the app, a news notification popped up at the top of the screen:

"Brandon and Gloria Spotted Spending the Night Together, Relationship Confirmed."

I froze for half a second, then locked the phone without a single change in my expression.

I handed the phone back to Isaac and gave him a soft, genuine smile. "Thanks, Isaac."

Isaac's phone buzzed over and over in his pocket.

He said, his tone filled with apology, "I'm so sorry, Abigail. I've got a ton of stuff to take care of right now. Get some rest, okay? I'll come check on you tomorrow."

I smiled and shook my head. "It's fine. I can take care of myself. I've been taking my meds every day."

Isaac was quiet for a minute. He thought about what I'd just said to that fan, and finally set the phone back down in front of me. "Call me if you need anything."

The second Isaac left, my smile crumbled. All the strength drained right out of me.

I dialed the number I knew by heart.

After a few rings, Brandon's rough voice picked up. "What now?"

I kept my voice as steady as I could. "Brandon, I will turn 30 the day after tomorrow. Do you remember our promise?"

Brandon had been expecting me to yell about the news. He froze.

An old memory flashed through his head—him, young and cocky, making a big, bold promise. "Abigail, I'll be somebody big by the time you turn 30. And then I'll marry you."

I'd smiled back then, eyes bright. "Deal. I'll only love you until I'm 30. If you don't marry me by then, I'm gone."

Silence hung on the line. All I could hear was the noise of the crowd around Brandon.

I let out a small laugh. "Relax. I'm not calling to beg you to marry me. I'll be at our old place tomorrow. Come spend my birthday with me. Just one more time."

People kept calling for him in the background. Brandon pushed down the weird, uneasy feeling in his chest and answered flatly, "Okay. Got it."

I hung up and dug an old, worn key out of the nightstand drawer.

I glanced around the empty apartment, then headed out alone.

It was late, but the streets were still busy, bright, and loud with traffic.

I walked through the crowds in sunglasses and a mask. No one recognized me as the person everyone online was tearing apart.

The crowds swarmed all around me.

I walked alone through all of it.

I stopped at a bakery and picked out my favorite, mango cake.

I wandered for a while longer until I reached a run-down old apartment complex.

It was the first place Brandon and I had ever lived together.

We'd bought it outright once we started making real money.

I pulled out the old key and unlocked the door to our unit.

When I flipped on the light, dust floated everywhere. All the furniture was covered in white sheets. No one had been here in years.

I put the cake in the fridge, then cleaned the whole place from top to bottom by myself.

For a second, it felt like we'd never left.

I waited there through the night, through the sunrise, and all the way back to sunset.

It was 11:30 in the evening—half an hour until my birthday.

Brandon still hadn't shown up.

I took the cake out, set it on the table, and lit the candles.

I thought for a second, then called him again.

It rang and rang, but I got no answer.

I smiled bitterly. "I was really hoping to hear you say happy birthday one last time."

I wrapped my arms around myself and buried my face in my knees. My voice cracked. "You bailed on me again, Brandon."

Ever since we'd moved out of this place, he'd always been breaking his promises.

Once, twice, three times... until I'd gotten used to it. I couldn't even count them all anymore.

Now I finally had to admit it. The man who'd once treated me like I was everything didn't love me anymore.

I don't know how long I sat there. Finally, I lifted my head, folded my hands, and made a wish. "May Abigail find happiness in her next life."

I opened my eyes and blew out the candles.

Then I stood up and walked out.

The cake sat behind me, completely untouched.

Up on the roof, I opened Twitter and hit record.

I put on that same bright, energetic smile I always did, and started talking. "For today's segment, I wanna tell you all a story.

"There was a little girl who grew up with a gambling addict mom. They were always running from debt collectors, never staying in one place. Back then, all she wanted was a steady, happy home.

"When she grew up, she became a famous singer. But her mom gambled even worse than before. Even her sister changed. Her family only saw her as a cash cow. She never got a single bit of real love from any of them.

"Then she met someone who really loved her. He promised her that by the time she turned 30, he'd give her that home she'd always wanted."

I went quiet for a long time after that. My eyes slowly filled with tears.

When I spoke again, my voice was rough and hoarse. "That little girl was me. I wanna say I'm sorry to all my fans. I'm sorry. I'm just so tired. I think... this might be my last radio segment. And I'm sorry to him. I'm sorry I couldn't wait until 30 for you..."

I hummed a soft song. The wind tore at the words, making them sound broken. "Even if I sell out the whole arena, what's the point if you're not there? It all feels like nothing... All the lights and all the fame... they don't compare to singing soft and quiet right next to the one you love..."

I posted my final message to the world, then closed Twitter.

Despair had its claws sunk deep in my chest, and it wouldn't let go.

I was drowning in the dark, and there was no one to pull me out.

The wind howled on the roof. I spread my arms wide and let it wrap around me.

The second I hit the ground, the clock read 11:58.

I died in the last two minutes of being 29, two minutes shy of 30, two minutes short of the ten-year promise we'd made to each other.

*****

Traffic was backed up for miles on Eastmere Boulevard.

In the back of a black luxury van, Brandon glanced at his watch and rubbed his temples.

James sat next to him, sounding exasperated. "You taped shows all day out of town. Why not just crash at the hotel? Why take the red-eye back to the city?"

Brandon had this weird, tight feeling in his chest. He couldn't explain why.

After a long silence, he said, "It's her 30th birthday. I told her I'd be there."

James went quiet. He didn't have anything to say to that.

Brandon stared at the endless line of cars, barely inching forward.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated, and finally caved. "Forget it. Let's just head to the hotel first."

He thought tomorrow would be fine.

The heavy night air felt thick, hard to breathe.

He rolled down the window. Just then, the big digital screen up ahead switched to a breaking news alert.

The newscaster's eyes were red. Her voice shook as she spoke, fast and tight.

"Early this morning, pop star Abigail Morrow was found dead after jumping from the roof of an old apartment building. She posted a final video message before her death..."