You Were Meant for Me

Three weeks. Three weeks after leaving was all it took for my life to completely fall apart.

Once we got back home, my mom got right to work on moving my dad’s things out and was handling the whole thing a million times better than I thought she would be, while I, on the other hand, laid in my bed at night and cried into a sweater I managed to snag from one of the boxes before they were hauled off. She had removed every single trace of him from the house, as if he was never there at all.

Then came the day she told me she was planning on selling the house, our house, the place I had grown up in. Naturally, I was extremely upset by that and tried to find someway to keep that from happening, but due to my nan giving her the house before my parents were married, she had every right to sell without my dad’s consent. She was determined to erase him completely and she was doing a damn good job of it too.

The only person that could make me feel better in the slightest was Ville, but being a whole ocean apart made things hard. We were only able to talk a few times due to his busy schedule, as they had started working and recording their new album. A few emails were exchanged here and there, but after the first two weeks, our communication was nonexistent. I honestly felt a little stupid that I believed anything could actually come out of a vacation fling with a famous musician. It wasn’t a fairy tale…I tried to keep myself occupied by doing a few little open mic nights here and there, but as each day passed, I found myself slipping further into that black little hole I’d been in before and I knew it wasn’t going away.

The day I finally spiraled started out as a pretty good day. Mom woke me up with blueberry pancakes, I had plans to go shopping with Ryan Ashley, and I had managed to line up some recording time for the guys for some of their new stuff so I was just as excited as they were. But then it happened. I received an email from an unknown sender and I found myself staring at a picture of Mikaela and Ville with three little words underneath: He’s mine, bitch.

I don’t actually remember much from the rest of the day, but what I do know is I called an old friend from high school. Teejay always had the best hookup for everything, anything you could possibly want. He left me with a little purple kush, lemon haze, pineapple express and a few edibles. After smoking a bowl, I raided the only thing left of my father’s; his liquor cabinet. The marijuana made me feel a little better, but I wanted to drown my sorrows. I wanted to forget the past month had even happened.

I vaguely remember being woken up by my mom walking in the house and screaming, thinking I was dead instead of just passed out on the floor. Somehow I managed to get to my feet and stumble to my bedroom, ignoring her pleas and questions. I didn’t want to deal with her or hear another lecture. I was beyond heartbroken. I had lost my dad, my boyfriend, and my childhood home.

“I need you to tell him to get on the first flight… It’s bad, Elina… Really bad. I don't think I can do this alone.”