Then I clicked on Synthia’s profile. A green circle glared at me, as if everything was falling into my lap. I wondered if she was petty enough not to remove me from her close friends or bold enough to post there knowing I could see it. Either way, the damage was done. My vision blurred from liquor or tears—I couldn’t tell. I exited the app and began to text her.
You really think you won huh?
Send.
Fat hoe!
Send.
You stole my nigga. I hope you choke on a piece of bacon, you fat, sloppy, deep-freeze-back, bottle-of-bleach-shaped ass hoe!
Send.
I swear to God! Ima beat the fuck outta you when I see you hoe. OMS. OMM
Send.
I knew you wanted my life hoe. I knew you envied me. Ole-poe-ass bitch.
Send.
My hands were shaking. I took another swig of liquor, letting it numb everything—my feelings, my heart, my soul. The tears were falling now, hot and fast, dripping onto my phone screen.I tried to be quiet, biting down on my lip so hard I tasted blood. Then I pressed my hand to my mouth to muffle my wails, so I wouldn’t wake Monterrius.
With my free hand, I scrolled through my camera roll. There we were—me and Romelo—at his birthday party last year, at the car, at the mall. We looked happy. There was a glow in his eyes. I was torn. I can bounce back from a lot of things, but I can’t bounce back from this.
What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Act like my life is fine without him? Erase the low-down, good-dick motherfucker from my memory bank and throw away everything? I’m supposed to live a normal life? I’ve done some fucked-up shit in my life, but I haven’t done anything to deserve this. This had to be a scheme—set up by Todd.
Removing my hand from my mouth, I clutched my chest. The room felt like it was closing in on me. The walls, the darkness, the silence—it was all too much. I needed to be close to him. I needed to touch him, be in his space. So I stumbled away from the couch, my head spinning from the liquor, and grabbed my purse off the couch. I could come back later for my suitcase. For now, fuck it.
As quietly as I could, I clutched my phone and scrolled to locate the Uber app. I had to close one eye to type in Romelo’s address. He was twenty minutes away. I set the bottle on the floor and left. My mama’s house didn’t feel like home anymore.
The night air hit my face, cold and sharp. I sat on the curb, back hunched, watching for headlights. It didn’t take long for the Uber to pull up. Thank God she was a woman. I wouldn’t have felt comfortable in this state if it had been a guy. It took a minute for me to get a grip on the handle, and when I did, I slid into the back seat slowly, then slammed the door.
Whatever the driver was babbling about, I tuned her out. My mind was elsewhere, gazing out the window at the blurrystreetlights that were moving too fast. I didn’t notice we’d pulled up to his house until the driver tapped my knee to snap me out of my daze.
I still had my key. I still knew the code. My fingers fumbled with the lock, and then I was inside. His scent hit me immediately—his Dior cologne, heavy in the air, mixed with his natural smell. It made me cry harder, my whole body shaking, but I managed to make my way to the bedroom, using the walls to steady myself.
I collapsed on the bed and buried my face in his pillow, inhaling deeply, soaking my tears into the fabric. Then I lifted my head. My eyes were my worst enemy. When they landed on our pictures, I wanted to snatch them out of their frames. I snapped like a madwoman.
Grabbing the frame from the nightstand, I hurled it across the room. Glass shattered against the wall. I grabbed another one, screaming, riddled with so much hurt and pain, letting it crash at my feet. Glancing down, I realized it was the pill bottle my mama had given me.
“You left me!” I screamed at him, even though he wasn’t there. “You left me for that fucking bitch!”
The room began to spin. My eyes were swollen, my throat raw, trying to piece back my broken heart. My heart thumped loudly in my chest, echoing in my ears. My vision blurred, my head pounding. I dropped to the floor, not caring that I was stepping on broken glass.
Life has to be worth something. When you’re with a man, you’re supposed to make sacrifices for the both of you. Romelo is my good thing, and the thought of him being with another made my stomach drop. How can I go on? How can I erase him? How long will it hurt? Liquor didn’t erase the pain—it only drowned me in it. But I didn’t want to keep drowning. Without Romelo, I didn’t have a purpose.
I grabbed the pill bottle and swallowed a few without water, feeling a heightened sense of relaxation. I took more until I started to feel hazy, floating on a cloud, gazing through the stars.
Picking up a piece of glass, I held it against my wrist and glided it over my skin. I was too numb to react to the blood pouring out, but I dug deeper until I felt a sting, closed my eyes, and faded back into the darkness—where the aching pain became nonexistent and the thought of Romelo was permanently erased.
Screaming.
Somebody was fucking screaming.
The sound was muffled, like I was underwater. Everything felt heavy again and I couldn’t move. Couldn’t do shit but lay there while the world spun around me.
“Trecee please, wake up!”
