Fool the bitch named Violet into thinking she deserves love and happiness, then rip it right out from under her? How long were they planning on keeping up the ruse?
And Jamie...
He must have known. They met the night we got into our big fight. Was he just so done with me and angry enough that he had to hurt me?
I can't believe it never even crossed my mind that he would do that to me. Nate and Ellis, maybe, considering the fact that I really hurt them.
Nate's betrayal confuses me. I don't understand. He was so kind and caring...how does someone fake that for so long? Did he go home and shudder at the concept of touching me?
Ellis? I can picture him doing this. I knew when I saw him for the first time last month that he was different. Angry and emotional. Strong feelings have the ability to change people. Ellis is proof of that. He concocted a plan to destroy my trust, and it worked, all because I destroyed his seven years ago.
The city lights soon melt away into trees and neighborhoods of nice homes. I blink furiously to stay awake, all while my ankle throbs and my ribs make me nauseous with pain.
My teeth hurt with the ferocity I've been clenching them. Anger, sadness, and complete confusion battle for dominance in my mind every second.
How am I supposed to feel?
Sometimes I feel like I'm losing three people who have become so precious to me. Other times, I'm mad because I remind myself that those men I fell in love with never existed. Finally, when my mind tries to wrap itself around the information and match it to my experiences, I'm confused. So, so confused.
How could someone make me believe they loved me, cared for me, and were comfortable with me, just to rip it away? It's cruel. A cruel, horrible joke that has sent me running once again.
Am I making a mistake?
Should I have faced them? Called them back and demanded they give me the pieces of my heart back that they stole? And it was stealing because it was fake. They lied. They deceived me.
My gosh...They got their revenge. I ghosted them, so Ellis sucks myalmostboyfriend's cock.
I'm not so screwed up in the head that I'm going to take the blame for this fucked up situation. But I can acknowledge that I set this in motion a long time ago when I chose to run away from my problems rather than face them.
Here I am running again.
It's too late to change my mind. The light on Mom's porch shines through her row of trees, and suddenly everything hurts.
My teeth chatter and my vision blurs. Somehow, I manage to put the car in park and not drive right through the front door.
Fumbling for the handle, I can't open it fast enough.Let me out, let me out, let me out!
A ringing in my ears startles me enough to shove the door open. I barely get my feet under me as I stumble out the doorand slam it closed. Then, as if finally realizing just how messed up my foot is, I shout, reaching for the house.
"MOM!" I scream, giving my cry for help every last drop of energy I have. That's it. I made it. I'm done.
I recognize this scene from every good book I've read.Incessant beepingis usually what the characters call the sound that wakes me.
First, I realize I'm in the hospital. I have half a moment to wonder who all is with me before I blink open my eyes. But like in the stories, the blinding white light absolutely burns my eyeballs.
Squeezing my eyelids shut forces me to take note of the pounding in my head. Whether the headache is from banging it on the ground multiple times as I tumbled down the hill, or not eating or drinking water for the better part of an entire day, I'm not sure, but ithurts.
Next comes the dull ache of the injuries I've sustained, but it's nowhere near as bad as the stabbing in my heart.
I know my ankle, ribs, and possible concussion will be all that everyone talks about once I open my eyes. Which is fine. Although I know from experience that shoving heartbreak away never actually does any good.
My brain is a mess, and I've only been awake for a minute. I would sigh if I thought my ribs could handle it.
"Violet?"Mom.My eyes burn, and I have to swallow repeatedly to keep a sob from escaping. "Sweetheart, open your eyes."
"No," I croak, feeling way too emotionally distraught to face her.
Warmth encompasses my right hand, and the sob that I was trying to keep at bay comes tumbling out in a fresh wave of sorrow. My ribs protest the expulsion of feelings, making my eyes fly open.
