She doesn’t interrupt me or make comments. Darla lets me cry, take breaks when I don’t feel like I can talk anymore, waits for me, and listens patiently. She doesn’t say she’s sorry, the thing people often say at times like this. She’s quiet.

“And I haven’t even opened the letter yet,” I confess, and she sucks in a breath.

“I think you should. There’s a big chance it’ll make you feel closer to her.”

I nod and stare up at the ceiling.

“You might be thinking that you were on the right path and Olivia’s death took that from you, but you’re still on it, Indigo. As long as you don’t slip, you’ll be fine.”

“How can I make sure I don’t slip?”

“Find something to keep you steady.”

“Like what?”

“Little things. Take care of the garden, read the letter, paint, or start running. Anything that could help take your mind off things.”

“Yeah,” I agree, thinking about how I’ve spent the last week.

All I did was wake up, cry, eat, watch some movies, cry some more, and then sleep. Seems pathetic. That’s not what I want from my life. I didn’t take a step forward, only to take a thousand more back.

“And I expect to see you tomorrow,” she says in a mothering tone, almost making me laugh.

I hang up and look at the white envelope on the table that bears my name. It’s been there since she died. Elias read his. Took it with him. We all heard his father reading the one dedicated to all of us, but the courage to read mine never came.

Fuck it.

I snatch it up and rip it open, careful not to damage the paper inside. I unfold the letter and shiver when I see her neat writing.

Hi Blue!

Met your grandma up here. She’s pretty cool. She braids my hair and tells me stories about you. She’s even shown me your baby pictures. She wants you to know that she has her own garden with Mushroom in it and that she takes good care of him. Now I’ll take care of her, too.

I’m good here. Happy. No intrusive thoughts, no sadness. Everyone here is content.

My biggest wish is for you guys to have peace and I won’t find mine fully until that happens. I know it was selfish for me to do it and I’m sorry you feel how you feel right now, but if there was something that could’ve helped me, I promise I would’ve stayed. No therapy could erase those moments. They were on repeat for two whole months.

In my mind, I never got away, Blue. Do you know how it feels to be stuck in your own mind? In your own memories. I wanted out. I wanted to end it.