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Authors: S.B. Addison Books
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heart has just exploded in my chest.
I’m proud of myself for staying so strong in
front of him. I’m proud for standing my ground instead of keeping
quiet. But when I finally make into the safe haven of my car, I let
it all out.
I hunch over, hugging my stomach and let out
long agonizing sobs. And the whole time I cry I hear him in the
back of my mind, begging—pleading for me to come back.
Get out of my head!
Even my thoughts involving him are
accompanied by pain. A dull, incessant, throbbing pain. As I try to
catch my breath and control myself the pain intensifies, circling
around my gut, and I’m not sure when or if it will ever go
away.
Chapter 12
“ Love that we cannot have is the one that
lasts the longest, hurts the deepest and feels the strongest...”~
Author Unknown ~
I’m broken. Hopefully I won’t be this way
forever, but for now every part of me is broken. I’m also sick and
obsessed, clawing at my own body trying to recreate the way it
feels to have his hands on me. It’s not the same.
When I arrived home I’d consumed an entire
quart of Ben & Jerry’s Strawberry Cheesequake ice cream. I was
hoping that maybe the frosty delight would dull the pain just a
little bit. It doesn’t.
Henry calls. Once. Twice. Three times, and
every time I hit the ignore button.
Then he texts me.
Plz talk 2 me.
R u home?
Can I come ovr?
I don’t answer his texts either.
Sleep. That’s all I really want to do. Sleep
away my sorrows. Dream of blissful experiences. Dream of hope and
laughter. Infectious laughter. Maybe today was a dream. Maybe I’ll
wake up tomorrow and everything that happened will be a nightmare.
Somehow I doubt it.
****
I’ve convinced myself that I’m delusional
because half-way through my slumber I hear, feel, and smell Henry.
His clothes smell like a combination of tide detergent and his
cologne. He breathes soft and raspy into my ear and I feel the
warmth of his body next to mine. I sigh. This seems too familiar.
Too real.
Rolling over, my hand smacks into something
hard and a cough echoes throughout my room. My eyes fly open and I
scramble from my bed and crouch down in the corner of my room.
Henry rises and walks around the bed closer to me.
“Get out!” My voice is cold and brash and I’m
pissed that he thinks my bed is a welcome mat. Thank you for
stoping by! Come back soon! Perhaps that’s my own fault because
I made it that way, but still. Every time he came over in the past
I’d invited him. I didn’t invite him over today.
“Chill Ry,” he says. “It’s me. It’s
Henry.”
“I know it’s you. I want you to leave.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do. Leave. Now.” I stand. “How did you get
in here?” I follow his gaze to the open window. Wind blows in and
circulates through my curtains. I mentally huff a string of curse
words for not remembering to lock it.
Henry rocks back and forth on his feet and
nervously shoves his hands into his pockets. This is the first time
I’ve ever seen him this way. Uncertain. Lost. He’s usually so sure
of himself. He locks eyes with me. A solemn expression takes over
his face. “Can we talk?”
His gaze is magnetic. He’s trying to pull me
in, like a black widow on a web, lurking, waiting for her prey to
get caught.
I’m fighting it—the power he has over me. The
spell he’s cast. Because every part of me wants to be enveloped in
his arms. I want his fingers in my hair. I want him kissing me. As
long as I stay where I am. As long as I don’t look at him or move,
I’ll be fine. He won’t over-power me. His charm won’t manipulate my
judgment.
He doesn’t deserve my time. I’ve sacrificed
plenty of precious minutes for him. I threw away a whole summer for
him. But I’m tired. I’m in pieces, and I’m furious. The sooner I
let him speak, the sooner he’ll leave and I get back to sleeping my
life away.
I’m proud of myself for staying so strong in
front of him. I’m proud for standing my ground instead of keeping
quiet. But when I finally make into the safe haven of my car, I let
it all out.
I hunch over, hugging my stomach and let out
long agonizing sobs. And the whole time I cry I hear him in the
back of my mind, begging—pleading for me to come back.
Get out of my head!
Even my thoughts involving him are
accompanied by pain. A dull, incessant, throbbing pain. As I try to
catch my breath and control myself the pain intensifies, circling
around my gut, and I’m not sure when or if it will ever go
away.
Chapter 12
“ Love that we cannot have is the one that
lasts the longest, hurts the deepest and feels the strongest...”~
Author Unknown ~
I’m broken. Hopefully I won’t be this way
forever, but for now every part of me is broken. I’m also sick and
obsessed, clawing at my own body trying to recreate the way it
feels to have his hands on me. It’s not the same.
When I arrived home I’d consumed an entire
quart of Ben & Jerry’s Strawberry Cheesequake ice cream. I was
hoping that maybe the frosty delight would dull the pain just a
little bit. It doesn’t.
Henry calls. Once. Twice. Three times, and
every time I hit the ignore button.
Then he texts me.
Plz talk 2 me.
R u home?
Can I come ovr?
I don’t answer his texts either.
Sleep. That’s all I really want to do. Sleep
away my sorrows. Dream of blissful experiences. Dream of hope and
laughter. Infectious laughter. Maybe today was a dream. Maybe I’ll
wake up tomorrow and everything that happened will be a nightmare.
Somehow I doubt it.
****
I’ve convinced myself that I’m delusional
because half-way through my slumber I hear, feel, and smell Henry.
His clothes smell like a combination of tide detergent and his
cologne. He breathes soft and raspy into my ear and I feel the
warmth of his body next to mine. I sigh. This seems too familiar.
Too real.
Rolling over, my hand smacks into something
hard and a cough echoes throughout my room. My eyes fly open and I
scramble from my bed and crouch down in the corner of my room.
Henry rises and walks around the bed closer to me.
“Get out!” My voice is cold and brash and I’m
pissed that he thinks my bed is a welcome mat. Thank you for
stoping by! Come back soon! Perhaps that’s my own fault because
I made it that way, but still. Every time he came over in the past
I’d invited him. I didn’t invite him over today.
“Chill Ry,” he says. “It’s me. It’s
Henry.”
“I know it’s you. I want you to leave.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do. Leave. Now.” I stand. “How did you get
in here?” I follow his gaze to the open window. Wind blows in and
circulates through my curtains. I mentally huff a string of curse
words for not remembering to lock it.
Henry rocks back and forth on his feet and
nervously shoves his hands into his pockets. This is the first time
I’ve ever seen him this way. Uncertain. Lost. He’s usually so sure
of himself. He locks eyes with me. A solemn expression takes over
his face. “Can we talk?”
His gaze is magnetic. He’s trying to pull me
in, like a black widow on a web, lurking, waiting for her prey to
get caught.
I’m fighting it—the power he has over me. The
spell he’s cast. Because every part of me wants to be enveloped in
his arms. I want his fingers in my hair. I want him kissing me. As
long as I stay where I am. As long as I don’t look at him or move,
I’ll be fine. He won’t over-power me. His charm won’t manipulate my
judgment.
He doesn’t deserve my time. I’ve sacrificed
plenty of precious minutes for him. I threw away a whole summer for
him. But I’m tired. I’m in pieces, and I’m furious. The sooner I
let him speak, the sooner he’ll leave and I get back to sleeping my
life away.