Anyone.

After all, he pointed out, Kaia was just my sister, not my soul mate, and blood isn’t everything. Kaia had her own life going on, we didn’t hang out often, so what did she care? He was my future. He was giving up all his free time to be with me, so shouldn’t I do the same? Why was he putting in more effort than I was? If I loved him as much as I claimed, then why would I want to be anywhere else but at his side? Kaia was against us. Soon, she’d turn the whole family against us.

Lucas and I held each other, crying, passionately swearing we’d never let anyone come between us. It was a lot. He needed constant reassurance that I wanted to grow old with him. I’d spend hours trying to convince him, until my voice was hoarse. Each session would end with us being “closer than ever” even though my nerves were frayed, and I’d think, okay he’s finally all right, we’re settled—but then he’d plummet right back to that low point, and I’d have to drop everything to reassure him all over again. I began to suspect he was faking it, just to siphon my energy. To watch me prove myself over and over. Emotions were running so high, all the time, and I was drained. Exhausted. I never had two minutes to myself to reflect on anything, to view this relationship from a distance.

Kaia dropped by my house (at the time, I was living in L.A.) on the pretense that she wanted to play a new track for me, and then Athena tumbled out of the passenger seat, grabbed my wrist, and stuffed me in the back. It was an intervention. Kaia held my phone hostage while we drove to Santa Cruz. We explored parks along the way, but I couldn’t enjoy any of the sights. Aside from calling them every horrible name I could think of, I refused to speak to them. I had thirty nervous breakdowns per hour over what Lucas was going to do, how he would react. I begged for my phone so that I could call him and let him know I was okay, that I missed him, that this wasn’t my idea, that I was forced. But not in a sinister way. I didn’t want him calling the police on my sisters.

Kaia instructed me to dictate all my messages onto a notepad. She’d text them to Lucas herself.

As I sat in my hotel bed, surrounded by crumpled papers, my pen ran out of ink before I could come up with the right words that would make Lucas forgive me for going on an impromptu trip with my sisters. It was such an awful few days that I can’t remember most of it. A trauma fog.

Do you know that feeling when out of nowhere, your ears pop and your equilibrium is shot, and you hear a high, thin ringing? That sensation knocked me over like an undertow. I couldn’t stop staring at all the ink I’d used, all the paper I’d scribbled on and then discarded. The crossed-out words, because if I didn’t use just the right words, he’d spiral. Or stop loving me. I couldn’t predict what he’d do. Suddenly, I was so scared by what was happening that I did a one-eighty from being desperate to run into his arms to never wanting to be in Southern California again. I wanted to go into hiding. I was worried he had a tracker in my phone, that he’d find me. I was worried that if I called him and broke it off, he’d talk me out of it. I didn’t have enough faith in myself to successfully break up with him in person, knowing that if I had to look into his eyes, I’d cave.