Beca POV:
Cold. Very, very cold. Like ice.
Heavy. Very, very heavy. Like an elephant.
Empty. Very, very empty. Like an endless void of nothingness.
Numb.
I felt no more. I could no longer find any distinction between happy or sad. There was no contrast anymore- at least not when it came to emotion.
There was one thing that helped me to feel something- helped me to see contrast.
Dark blood against pale skin.
I lifted the thin blade up to the light, looking at the glint on the tip of the blade as I rotate it in between my fingers. I lowered the blade to my left wrist. I took a moment to acknowledge all of the other marks on my wrist from previous cuttings.
I dug the blade deep into my wrist, but not deep enough to kill me. I didn't want to die. I just wanted the feeling- the contrast.
I clutched my sweatshirt over my wrists as I lay in bed, staring into the emptiness of my dark room. I held my arms to my chest as I thought about a lot of different things. I thought about my depression. I thought about my worthiness. I thought about everything I have ever done wrong in my life and how all of those things prove my worthlessness. Then I thought about music. I thought about chord progressions and down beats. I thought about mixes and rhythm. I thought about how music used to make me feel. I thought about the Bellas and how I missed them. I thought about Amy and Aubrey and Emily and-
Chloe.
God how I missed Chloe. Her bright eyes, her fiery hair. I thought about her bubbly personality, her perfect smile. I thought about her laugh and how her nose would crinkle when I told her stupid jokes. I thought about how she would blush when I teased her. I thought about her soft skin and full lips. God how I wanted to kiss those lips.
I woke up with a start, feeling cold yet damp, probably from sweat due to my nightmare.
"Chloe!" I yelled, though no sound came out. "Chloe, don't!" I continued screaming with no success.
I thought back on the horror of my subconscious thoughts that had filtered into my dream. I couldn't bare the thought of Chloe commiting suicide.
Still shaken, I turn to my bedside table to check the time. My little electric clock read 5:42. I used to love sleeping in. I used to look forward to the weekends where I could just sleep and sleep, a lot of times with Chloe's strong arms wrapped tightly around my small body.
I pick up my phone and turn it over, watching it illuminate my dark bedroom. I see a text from Chloe and feel a small glimmer of hope deep within my being.
The text reads:
hey becs ! i miss u sooo much ! i hope u r doing well in la. i know we havnt talked in awhile and i know we didnt end things at barden on the best note. i just wanted to say...im sorry…
We haven't talked in months! I reply quickly, saying:
Chloe! It's so good to hear from you! I miss you so much, and i just want you to know: I really don't care. Jesse and I weren't meant to last anyways. Go out and be the amazing person you are. I'm sorry I blew up at you on our last day together...I was just so...I don't know. I'm sorry.
I press send, and within seconds, my phone rings. It's Chloe.
"Hey," I say sleepily.
"Hey, you…" she responds, sounding flustered for some reason.
Pause
"Look," Chloe starts, "about what happened with Jesse-"
"Chlo, it's okay. Honestly. And if I'm telling the truth, I was considering breaking up with him even before everything happened. It wasn't going to work out. I really don't know why I got so mad at you. And Chloe, honey, I care way more about you than I ever did about Jesse. So if you're happy, I'm happy."
She doesn't respond, so I continue.
"Actually...I do know why I blew up." I pause and take a deep breath. "I-I wasn't mad that you had hooked up with Jesse because he was my boyfriend. I was...jealous…of him…"
"Wh-what?" Chloe stutters.
"If I'm telling you the truth, I have been extremely depressed ever since I left Barden all because of how we left things. I have started cutting, thinking about suicide, all these horrible things. But the reason is...I can't stand not being with you. Waking up in the mornings to empty sheets, going to work without our good morning hugs goodbye, and coming home to an empty apartment, only to sulk on my couch until I go to bed all alone...I-"
"Beca-" she says, her voice cracking.
"I feel hor-"
"Beca," she says more forcefully this time.
"What," I ask, now crying.
"I-I love you."
I sit down in my seat, trying my best to get comfortable before we take off.
I can't wait to see her, I think to myself.
The flight to Florida seemed to take forever, but I feel a rush of joy- something I have not felt in months -course through my entire being.
I walk to baggage claim and wait for my bag. I check the time and find that it is almost thirty minutes past when I told Chloe to pick me up. Hurry up you fucking bag, I think.
It finally gets here, and the moment I put it over my shoulders, I begin sprinting.
I turn the corner, and there she is, looking as beautiful as ever. Her hair is down by her shoulders in thick waves, glossed over and shinny from the sun. She is wearing very short jean shorts, matched with a flowy floral cropped top. Our eyes connect and she sends one of the biggest smiles my way. I run faster.
When I finally get about ten feet away, I begin to slow down- but not much. I crash into her, but she catches me. We stand there, holding each other for many minutes, not saying anything. We begin to sway back and forth as we hug, and I start to feel people's eyes on us. I hide my face in Chloe's hair, breathing in the scent of her strawberry shampoo.
When we finally pull away, we stare at each other, smiling, just inches apart from each others faces.
Chloe is the first to speak. "It's so good to see you, Becs," she smiles. "I've missed you so much."
I feel my throat catch, rendering me silent, not able to form words. I am overcome with so much joy, just by being in the presence of Chloe. I begin to cry- hard.
She pulls me into another hug, and just holds me tightly.
When I finally calm down enough to speak, I turn my head slightly and whisper into her ear, "I love you." I feel her shiver slightly, then pull back just enough to look me in the eyes.
Her eyes have now become glossed over with tears, and she whispers back, "I love you too."
Without hesitation, I pull her face to mine and trap her lips in a chaste kiss. The kiss is short, but full of intention. Her lips are soft and taste like vanilla.
We pull away for a second to look at each other, and she says to me, "Never leave me again."
"I-I won't." And with that, we are kissing again.