Page 2 of #Lovestrong

1

Lena

"Lena, I'm not sending you away because I don't want you here," my father says as he pulls my suitcases out of the trunk. "You've left the house twenty-one times in nine months. Those were all for funerals."

I squeeze my eyes shut, praying he'll just shut up. I don't want to talk about the funerals, or school, or anything. Why’s it so hard for everyone to just leave me the hell alone? So what if I don't go out? So what if I'm not so sweet and nice anymore? What does he expect? Things to go back the way they were before it happened? He should try being blamed for the deaths of twenty-two classmates and see how he feels after it.

Truthfully, I'm not even upset about going to live with my grandparents. At least they live across the country, they'll leave me alone, and I won't have to worry about the speculation from parents and kids every time they look at me.

Peter's suicide note was tucked into the duffel bag he’d brought his father's AR15 in. They found it, and before I was even out of the hospital, it was leaked to the local news station.

High School Outcast Guns Down Classmates After Bullying and Rejection.

During the investigation that followed the shooting, the police found boxes of journals in Peter's room dating all the way back to seventh grade. In the ones dated right before the shooting, he talked about how much I'd hurt his feelings by refusing to go to Homecoming with him. Some of the newspapers said if I'd have been nicer to him and agreed to be his date, maybe he wouldn't have done what he did.

My father ripped those news outlets a new ass every chance he got after that.

It never made dealing with it any easier.

After a few months, the reporters stopped coming to the house and I stopped coming out of my room. I finished my Junior year through at-home tutoring and with Senior year approaching fast, my father realized how much I'm dreading it. The nightmares got worse again, more panic attacks, not being able to keep food down.

Part of me thinks he just can't deal with it all anymore and that's why he's sending me to my grandparents. Deep down, I know that's not true. He knows I can't walk those halls again. I can't sit in that cafeteria without Cam and Camilla, staring at the places their bodies laid that day.

I can't do it. I'm not ready. I'll never be ready.

So off I go to the po-dunk town of Lakeview, Oregon. My grandparents already registered me for school and I get a whole month to chill before having to deal with classes.

I don't want to finish high school. My father just doesn't get it. He acts like it’ll be easier at a different school, but what's to stop someone there from doing the same thing? He should just let me finish online and leave it at that.

But no. He insists I go back. To hell with the fact the sight of a school makes my lungs feel like they're collapsing. Like he cares that I buried my boyfriend, well, almost boyfriend, my best friend, and twenty other kids I'd known since grade school.

He'll never understand.

A whistle blows, making me jump, and my father sighs. It's a long train ride from Virginia to Oregon, but I'm looking forward to the quiet time. He was at least nice enough to get me a private cabin.

"I'll call when I get to Grandma's," I say, shifting my bookbag and duffel bag.

He hugs me tightly and I try to put some enthusiasm into it. "I love you, Lena. I hope you know that."

"I know. Love you too."

Once I'm on the train and in my cabin, I sit back and close my eyes. I really hope this helps. I haven't seen my grandparents since I was eleven, but they never seem to change. Maybe they can help.

I doubt anything is going to make this fear, this ache in my chest, go away.