There I was, soaked in sadness while sitting in front of the television. There was some kind of sitcom on. I wasn't paying much attention to it because tears were blurring my vision while dark thoughts of my now ex swirled around my head.
Tom and I had broken up last night. It started with me saying I needed some space. We were spending as much time together as we could. I didn't hate it, I loved being around him. He made me feel safe and loved at all hours of the day. He held me when the storm clouds were raining over my head on my darkest days. He did everything he could to make me happy. But after a year and a half, I missed having time to myself. I tried to explain this to him, but all he heard was I wanted him to leave. I could see it in his eyes that my words broke his heart. His eyes went from sadness to anger as he told me I was a horrible person and that all he ever did was love me. He walked away. No matter how many times I called out his name, he never turned back around, leaving me in tears on the ground.
I'll never forget the day we first met. It was a party a friend of mine, Hannah, invited me to. Big house, loud music, drinking, tons of people. It was like a college party you'd see on television. He and I were downstairs, leaning against the counter in the middle of the kitchen. I guess someone was shoving him, but there was some yelling and he stumbled backwards into me. He'd spilled his drink all over a small group of people next to us. My back was turned to him, but he fell into me. I spun around to tell him off, but I saw his precious face. His soft, brown eyes stared into mine.
"Sorry, ma'am," he said, his words slurred due to the amount of alcohol he'd consumed. He later told me that he had far more than he should've that night. I tried holding back a smile, while saying, "You should watch where you're going."
He then came back at me with a smooth line that set things in motion, "Now if I did that, I wouldn't be standing in front of the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, now would I?"
He really did think the world of me. He never would've done anything to hurt me, like some of my friends had thought. Sure, when we hung out sometimes, there'd be some unexplainable purple marks on my skin. But I had a reason for them existing. And believe me, they definitely weren't from him. If he ever did anything that would come even remotely close to bringing me pain, he would make absolutely certain I was okay.
The marks were from some things we'd do together as a couple. See, we both shared a common interest, which was a hatred for humanity. Which is why our bond together after we began dating was so strong. The marks on my arms and legs, the bruises and the scratches, they weren't from him, they were from the struggling bodies before we brought to their maker before dragging their bodies into the woods.
Tom and I had broken up last night. It started with me saying I needed some space. We were spending as much time together as we could. I didn't hate it, I loved being around him. He made me feel safe and loved at all hours of the day. He held me when the storm clouds were raining over my head on my darkest days. He did everything he could to make me happy. But after a year and a half, I missed having time to myself. I tried to explain this to him, but all he heard was I wanted him to leave. I could see it in his eyes that my words broke his heart. His eyes went from sadness to anger as he told me I was a horrible person and that all he ever did was love me. He walked away. No matter how many times I called out his name, he never turned back around, leaving me in tears on the ground.
I'll never forget the day we first met. It was a party a friend of mine, Hannah, invited me to. Big house, loud music, drinking, tons of people. It was like a college party you'd see on television. He and I were downstairs, leaning against the counter in the middle of the kitchen. I guess someone was shoving him, but there was some yelling and he stumbled backwards into me. He'd spilled his drink all over a small group of people next to us. My back was turned to him, but he fell into me. I spun around to tell him off, but I saw his precious face. His soft, brown eyes stared into mine.
"Sorry, ma'am," he said, his words slurred due to the amount of alcohol he'd consumed. He later told me that he had far more than he should've that night. I tried holding back a smile, while saying, "You should watch where you're going."
He then came back at me with a smooth line that set things in motion, "Now if I did that, I wouldn't be standing in front of the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, now would I?"
He really did think the world of me. He never would've done anything to hurt me, like some of my friends had thought. Sure, when we hung out sometimes, there'd be some unexplainable purple marks on my skin. But I had a reason for them existing. And believe me, they definitely weren't from him. If he ever did anything that would come even remotely close to bringing me pain, he would make absolutely certain I was okay.
The marks were from some things we'd do together as a couple. See, we both shared a common interest, which was a hatred for humanity. Which is why our bond together after we began dating was so strong. The marks on my arms and legs, the bruises and the scratches, they weren't from him, they were from the struggling bodies before we brought to their maker before dragging their bodies into the woods.
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