Booktree.ngIt-Starts-with-Us-Colleen-Hoover

little girl from the homeless boy who manipulated her into having sex
with him.
My father said I’d shamed our whole family by giving the town
something to gossip about. And let me tell you, they still gossip about
it. I heard Katie on the bus today telling someone she tried to warn
me about Atlas. She said she knew he was bad news from the moment
she laid eyes on him. Which is crap. If Atlas had been on the bus with
me, I probably would have kept my mouth shut and been mature about
it like he tried to teach me to be. Instead, I was so angry, I turned
around and told Katie she could go to hell. I told her Atlas was a
better human than she’d ever be and if I ever heard her say one more
bad thing about him, she’d regret it.
She just rolled her eyes and said, “Jesus, Lily. Did he brainwash
you? He was a dirty, thieving homeless kid who was probably on
drugs. He used you for food and sex and now you’re defending him?”
She’s lucky the bus stopped at my house right then. I grabbed my
backpack and walked off the bus, then went inside and cried in my
room for three hours straight. Now my head hurts, but I knew the only
thing that would make me feel better is if I finally got it all out on
paper. I’ve been avoiding writing this letter for six months now.
No offense, Ellen, but my head still hurts. So does my heart. Maybe
even more right now than it did yesterday. This letter didn’t help one
damn bit.
I think I’m going to take a break from writing to you for a while.
Writing to you reminds me of him, and it just all hurts too much. Until
he comes back for me, I’m just going to keep pretending to be okay.
I’ll keep pretending to swim, when really all I’m doing is floating.
Barely keeping my head above water.
—Lily
I close the journal after reading the last page.
I don’t know what to feel because I feel everything. Rage, love, sadness,
happiness.
I’ve always hated that I couldn’t remember most of that night no matter
how hard I tried to think back on every word that was said between us. The
fact that Lily wrote it all down is a gift—albeit a sad one.