I haven't gotten out of bed in seven days, only getting up to use the bathroom and sip some water. With all the tears I have cried, my body craved all the liquid I would allow myself to consume.

The first day, I cried. I cried throughout the night, the evening of heartbreak playing over and over in my head. Could I have said something differently to make him not react the way he did? The answer to that is no. But I could not except that.

The second day, I continued to cry, except this day, my mother came into my room. I claimed sick, which wasn't false. I couldn't eat which left me dry heaving when my body begged for me to help itself.

"Do I need to call a doctor?" She had asked, pressing a thin hand to my forehead. I dodged it and pulled my covers up and over my unwashed hair. "Oh my Heavens, are you pregnant?"

"No, Momma. Leave me alone. I'm sick," I droned, closing my eyes to block it all out.

My mother ignored me like normal and yanked on my sheets to expose me again. "I'm calling your father."

I let her be on the second day because the wounds were still so fresh to the point that everything hurt; breathing, talking, blinking, thinking. Sleep was even painful because I dreamt of him.

The third day, I woke up to my father sticking a thermometer under my tongue. I batted him away and tossed it against the wall. That's when they both pinned it as my time of the month. I didn't bother to correct them. I didn't bother to speak. I couldn't. I wasn't able to speak up then, why should I start now?

On the fourth day, my mother stayed home from her brunch date with the women from the country club to watch over me. She was persistent on making sure I didn't sleep long because she was afraid I had some kind of concussion of sorts because I 'wasn't acting like myself.'

I don't think I'll ever be the same again.

Heartbreak is tricky. Every beat of the stupid organ was like one step closer to the last.

On the fifth day, I welcomed sleep. All I wanted to see was him. In my dreams he smiled at me, he touched me, he told me he loved me, and every time I was so close to smiling, touching, or telling him I loved him back, my mother would shake me awake.

It was like death over and over again not being able to touch him.

"You're being dramatic, Kelly Grace," my mother scolded me as she set down a strawberry yogurt in front of me on a tray. "It is time to get out of bed."

"I can't," I had moaned, my voice hoarse from days of not speaking. "My body hurts."

"That, honey, is from laying in bed for days." She landed harshly on my mattress, her little body rocking mine in a jolt. I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out. I don't think I could cry anymore even if I wanted to. "You need to go to school. At least, shower."

"I can't go to school." If I went to school, I knew I wouldn't see Nate because he is recovering from his surgery. But still. His friends would be there. My secret was out now and even though I never fully bonded with them, it still hurt to see the look in their eyes during the confession.

It didn't help my nerves that the fear of the police showing up at my doorstep haunted me as well. My future with Nate seemed over. So did any feature for that matter.

All I wanted to do was walk next door and check on Nate, make sure he is doing okay after the surgery.

I don't ever want to see you. I closed my eyes because how could I yearn for something so badly when someone who I swore shared a piece of my soul claimed to want nothing to do with me.

"Is this about that Haynes kid?" My mother asked that night.

I had lifted the covers enough so that only my eyes were uncovered. Just by simply hearing his last name had my chest clenching tightly. The pain rocketed through my body, head to chest, chest to stomach, stomach to toes. It hurt so bad.

"How do you..."

"Oh please, honey," she had said with a flip of her hair. "I know you and Daniel broke up months ago. His mother has a big mouth and apparently so does her son because he went running right to mommy when you broke up with him. I also saw you on multiple occasions sneak out of that window of yours to run across the lawn to the Haynes house."

I gaped at her, not knowing what to say. Here I was thinking I was being so sneaky. I knew my father knew something was up between Nate and me because of the night he was called to the Haynes house to attend Nate's wound.

Here I was, caught off guard that there was no disapproval on her face. All I could see was sorrow in her blue eyes. I didn't like that look. It made me feel worse.

When the end of that fifth day came around I had managed to sit up in bed. The incline hurt but I welcomed the pain now, no longer numb.

When my mother came walking into my room that morning I managed to tilt my head in her direction. All she did was sit on the edge of my bed and look at me.

You know, the strange thing is, I don't think I have ever spent so much time with my mother as I have over that seven day period.

"I really love him, Momma," I admitted after a few moments of her just watching me, the words catching in my throat.

"I know, sweetpea." She had patted down my matted hair as I managed to cry again for the first time in days. "I know."

"I did something bad. Something really bad and now Nate hates me."

"Did you apologize?"

I nodded but the slight movement made my head swim. "It was really bad, Momma. I wouldn't forgive me either."

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't try. If you love him, truly love him, you will do whatever it takes because that is what loving some one is. You don't give up, Kelly."

I let her words sink in but motivation wasn't something I had the energy to scrub up.

Has she always been this wise and attentive or was I just too blind to see it?

The sixth day was a blur because I slept for most of the day but the sixth day was the first day I managed to keep down a meal. A measly piece of toast and two slices of an apple, was all, but it was something. I even managed to wake up for a good ten minutes to hop into the shower. My mother was pleased to see this.

It was the seventh day when the first spark of emotion ignites in my blood when my father drops a manilla envelope on my comforter.

I roll over at the sound and gargle something neither one of us understood.

"What is this?" I ask not even bothering to look at it.

"Read the stamp," he instructs and I sit up to do so.

My mind ignites and my mouth drops open. "It's from Dartmouth."

"Open it," he urges with a smile, calling my mother into the room.

"I don't know if I can." I stare at it longer, looking at it like if I rip the envelope open it would bite me.

This could be my out. I can run away after graduation to New Hampshire and try to put behind the beautiful boy that will forever scorn my heart. The happy reflection is soon clouded at that very thought.

"This is a new start, honey," my mother coos as if reading my mind, pushing my hair out of my face. My heart gives a loud thud at the memory of Nate doing the same to me many times. "All your hard work over the years may have paid off."

"I don't want to open it," I decide and toss it to the foot of my bed.

My parents exchange a look. I ignore them and lay back down, tucking my hands under my head as I stare down at the envelope.

"Kelly," my father says as he picks up the college letter from my feet. The way he is speaking is as if he is consulting a wounded animal. "I think you should open it."

What's the point? I want to say but I just blink.

"You can." I decide. I continue to lay on my side, blinking every few seconds.

My mother gives my father another look but that didn't stop him from sliding his finger under the lip and taking the paper out. My heart, if it was working properly would be pounding in my chest as I wait for my dad to speak.

His eyes skim over the paper and his smile grew with every line.

"Congrats, kiddo!" My parents hug. This is everything they have worked for for me. Dartmouth has been in my cards since I could talk.

I have played this moment on repeat in my head since applying to the school. If I was in my right mind, I would be smiling from ear to ear and joining in on the hug. I would be over the moon happy.

But I wasn't doing that and I wasn't feeling happy. I felt even more sad because the infinite fact that Nate and I would part ways sooner or later, whether seven days ago or seven months from now, latched into me like a life sucking leech.

The days to follow are mechanic. I show my face at school only to take a few test that come as easy to me as if I had spent those seven days studying instead of dying. The sun rises and sets as the world keeps on turning and I allow it with open arms because the sooner the sun sets, the sooner I can see him in my dreams.

I allow myself to nod my head when my parents suggest a trip to New Hampshire to walk the campus of my future academic career. The trip goes fast, me bearing a smile at my future professors and hugging my yellow sweater closer to my body hoping that the happy color would transfer my mood.

I've wanted to step foot on this land for as long as I can remember and now that I am here, I wanted to go back home and hide under my covers like I have the past countless days.

I check the mailbox on post-Nate day fourteen before I head inside to join my mother on the sofa to piece together another one of her bridal boards. I really think she could make a career out of this. It's nice to know that my dad will have his research and my mother could possibly have this when I am off at school.

The day is beautiful, the sun shining brightly on the tops of my shoulders and I shut the mailbox and shuffle through the mail.

My heart stops in my chest when a particularly large white envelope catches my eye. For the first time in days, I smile. It's slow and unpractice but it pops up along with my breathing that accelerates when I hold it up.

I shove the other mail back into the mailbox and open it without another second to waste. I tear the top off with my teeth and rip the papers out of the packaging.

I can feel my eyes shine brighter with every word typed out in the first sentence. A squeal leaves my mouth as I grip it tightly to my chest. For the first time in days, I feel hope.

My feet take off across the lawn without a second thought, my brain going haywire from the lack stimulation over the past few weeks.

The feeling of my long hair flying behind me as I run through green grass feels magical like I am flying or floating on a cloud. A round of knocks seem to knock some sense into me and I start to panic.

What am I doing here? Nate said he never wanted to see me again yet here I am, placing myself on his front porch.

Before my common sense can take me away from this situation the door opens to expose Charlotte. Her cheeks lift when she sees me. She instantly wraps her little arms around me before she drags me in.

Before she can speak I breathily ask her where her brother is.

"He's at the doctors. He gets his bandages off today. Isn't that exciting?"

"Yes, very exciting," I say trying to keep the nerves out of my voice. "Actually, Charlotte. I'm going to go." I crouch down to get us on eye level. "Can you not tell Nathaniel I stopped by?"

"How come?" She asks, her eyes scrunching together just like her brother's does when he's confused. My breath catches in my throat.

"We're sort of fighting," I decide to say. I don't know how else to explain it to her.

"Why are you fighting?" Charlotte badgers her tiny hands landing on her hips. She cocks an eyebrow at me that escapes under her big bangs.

"Kelly?" Christopher descends the stairs with a concerned look on his face. He actually looks kind of amused. "I thought I heard the door." He turns his sisters head up to face his. "What's the rule about answering the door, squirt?"

Charlotte rolls her eyes. "It's just Kelly."

Christopher smiles tightly. Oh no, does he know? Did Nate tell him? Does his family know, as well?

"I'm going to go." I scurry for the door not wanting to stay and explain because her other brother could be back at any minute and it finally dawned on me how irrational me showing up here was. It was like the past few weeks didn't even happen.

Just as I am opening the door, it sways towards me and nearly knocks me off my feet. My letter falls to the floor in the haste to get out of the way. I bend and pick it up but as I stand, my eyes connect with the most beautiful, breathtaking, golden orbs.

Eyes that connect explicitly on mine.