"You're a slut of a thing." He gritted his teeth and a tear rolled down my cheek from under my sunglasses.
I felt awkward. Our mate was sitting in the back seat of the car, having to whitness and listen to this. I felt uncomfortable. I can't start imagine how he was feeling. I never asked him. Only apologized.
4 days passed with no communication, apart from thundering on my door, a bunch of flowers left on my doorstep, me re-living the situation over and over, and a few text messages.
I was stuck on the other side of the continent, no way out, with a guy that supposedly loved me, and this was happening. Wake up call at its finest I would have happily agreed.
I asked myself then... Do I live for this stuff? Surely not. If pain's meant to make you remember you're alive, then I would have rather have been dead.
I took him back on day 5 of course.
4 days passed with no communication, apart from thundering on my door, a bunch of flowers left on my doorstep, me re-living the situation over and over, and a few text messages.
I was stuck on the other side of the continent, no way out, with a guy that supposedly loved me, and this was happening. Wake up call at its finest I would have happily agreed.
I asked myself then... Do I live for this stuff? Surely not. If pain's meant to make you remember you're alive, then I would have rather have been dead.
I took him back on day 5 of course.
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