30
Iwandered listlessly around my apartment for days. I'd call in sick at the pet shop and I'd told Tracey I wouldn't be able to make my next few volunteer shifts. I couldn't handle being around people. I couldn't pull myself together enough to pretend everything was okay.
And I absolutely could not risk running into Nathan.
My chest went tight.
Nathan.
I'd broken up with him.
I'd broken his heart, and in the process I'd also broken mine.
I glanced at my phone, sitting on the coffee table. There had been no texts. No phone calls.
Not that I had expected there to be. After what had happened, I could imagine Nathan wouldn't want to speak to me ever again.
My stomach rumbled. I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten. I'd had no appetite. But I was beginning to get hunger pangs, so I went over to the fridge. When I opened it, I found it nearly empty. Same for the cupboards. I hadn't gone grocery shopping in a while.
I used to take most of my meals with my family, but ever since that fight with my mom, I'd been eating down in my apartment. Which meant I'd depleted my meager stash of food.
I slumped against the fridge and rested my head against the freezer door, closing my eyes. The cool temperature seeped into my skin, making my outsides feel as icy and numb as my insides.
That lump inside me hadn't gone away. Instead, it had only grown larger, colder, like a mountain-sized iceberg floating in my belly, ready to tear through me and demolish every inch of me.
The only thing that kept me from falling apart completely was knowing I'd done the right thing in the end.
I'd hurt Nathan, but it was better to hurt him a little bit now than to put him through something even worse later on.
My stomach rumbled again, painfully this time. I double-checked, but I didn't even have my usual emergency stash of granola bars. I had to go get some food.
With a sigh, I heaved myself upright. I made my way up the stairs and paused, listening through the door. I didn't hear anything. I inched the door open a crack. I didn't see anyone. The coast was clear.
I tiptoed into the kitchen, intending to make a quick dash for food. I didn't have the energy to make food from scratch, but maybe I could steal some cookies or crackers. I opened the cupboard where we kept the treats and snacks and rummaged around.
My eyes landed on a bottle of chocolate syrup.
I was assaulted with memories. Nathan's touch, his scent, his taste. The taste of him mixed with the taste of chocolate.
I can think of a dozen uses for chocolate syrup that have nothing to do with ice cream.
The echo of his voice filled my ears. He'd come to my apartment that evening, apologizing for how he'd acted. I'd apologized to him, as well. We'd both promised to talk things out and compromise from now on.
He'd told me he cared about me. He told me the last thing he wanted to do was hurt me.
Tears filled my eyes.
I cared about him too.
That was whyIhad to hurthim.
"I told you, the neighbors are complaining again!" my mom's voice rang throughout the house.
I heard the slam of the front door and my father's heavy footsteps.
"I'll get to it this weekend," my dad growled.
My parents entered the kitchen, still fighting.
