“Sorry,” she whispers, her eyes still darting around like she’s on high alert.
I take her hand gently, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She exhales, her shoulders relaxing slightly.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Her eyes dart to the door and then back to me. “If you need help, I can arrange that.”
She shakes her head fast. “No, please don’t.”
I offer her a sympathetic smile. “Do you have a phone?”
She shakes her head again, so I take a piece of paper out of my bag and jot down my number. I hold it out, and she stares at it, making no move to take it.
“I can’t,” she whispers. “If they find it . . .”
I clench my teeth in annoyance. She’s still there, even though their president is dead.Someone must have taken over.
I grab her hand and press the paper into her palm. “Put it in your bra, then hide it under your mattress. And if you ever need help, no matter what time it is, call me. I can help you.”
She clenches her fist tightly, nodding.
A nurse steps out of the room opposite us.
“Marissa,” she says softly, “lovely to see you again.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, wondering if these experts can see she needs help. Especially if she’s here regularly.
I get back to the clubhouse an hour later, and I take myself straight upstairs. After being embarrassed like that, I don’t want to be around anyone, especially in the same room as the reason I was there in the first place.
The entire thing was worse than my routine smears, but at least I know they’re to protect me. This was because of someone else’s negligence.Drifter and his whore!Jesus, he’s the only man I have ever loved, the only man I’ve ever slept with, and now, I’m getting tested for STIs.
I shake my head in irritation, pushing my bedroom door open. The smell of lavender fills my nostrils, and the heaviness from the day begins to evaporate.
I frown, making my way over to the bed to see my favourite fluffy pyjamas laid out neatly, with my laptop resting beside them, paused on an episode ofThe Vampire Diaries.
I close my eyes, inhaling deeply, trying to control my emotions. When I open them again, I see a note in Drifter’s handwriting. Part of me wants to be pissed, to rip it up without reading it, whilst I scream at the top of my lungs. But the pain in my heart is heavy, and my eyes are tired from all the tears.
I pick up the note, my hands shaking as I open it.
Hell,
I know there is no apology that will be good enough to make up for the pain I’ve caused you. I broke everything that night, and I don’t expect you to take me back. I’m giving you space, but don’t think for one minute I ain’t dying inside without you. I can’t change what I did, but I’ll spend the rest of my life fighting to make you see how sorry I am. And to prove that I’ll never be with anyone else, apart from you.
Rock told me where you were today, and I know you hate me for it, that you probably want to stab my eyes out. Fuck, Hell, I deserve it. I deserve everything you throw my way.
I wanted to speak to you, to tell you how shit I feel that you’re going through all this because of me. But I know you aren’t ready for that, so instead, I wanted to give you space with all the things that make your heart happy. Right now, that isn’t me.
Always yours,
Drifter.
I turn and sit on the bed. A single tear falls onto the note, the ink bleeding as it soaks through the paper.
The room seems to shrink around me. The colour drains from everything, leaving nothing but the ache of a future that no longer exists. It’s a note, just a few words, but my heart breaks all over again.
This time, it isn’t from anger. It’s from pain. Deep, suffocating pain. Like someone has reached into my chest and twisted a blade slowly, deliberately. The loss is total, overwhelming. Nothing will ever be the same. I’ll never love again, not like that.
Grief rolls over me in waves, dragging me under. I want to hate him. I want to hurt him the way he’s hurt me.
Would it have been easier if he’d died? At least then I’d know he hadn’t chosen it. Right now, all I feel is that I wasn’t enough.
