Текст книги "Arsen: a broken love story"

Автор книги: Mia Asher

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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

Arsen.

I need him.

I need to see him and make sure I’ve made the right choice, even though deep down I know the answer.

I’m driving and trying to hold myself together. I can’t lose it just yet. I need to get to his apartment first. Then I can bury this crushing pain engulfing me in the deep corners of my heart and ignore reality. But the pain is too powerful to contain as it takes over me. I throw my phone on the passenger’s seat and wipe the tears off my face as deep gut wrenching sobs are torn from my chest. When I can’t stop crying, the tears preventing me from seeing ahead, I pull off to the side of the road and park the car.

As excruciating pain hits me from within, making me bend over at the waist, I wrap my arms around my stomach, attempting to shield myself from the pain. Shutting my eyes tightly, I fight the nausea brewing inside me as despair sucks the air out of me.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

I’m drowning in pain.

He is gone.

Gone.

Gone.

The love of my life is gone.

And it’s my fault.

I open the car door and throw up viciously on the ground. After there is nothing left inside me but bile, I rest my forehead against the cold glass of the driver’s window. My eyes ache with all the tears I’ve shed since this morning. The realization of what I had—and lost—begins to register in my mind, and in my heart.

How am I going to live a life without Ben in it?

He’s all I’ve ever known. He’s been my world, my truth, and my reality since I was eighteen years old. He’s the other half of me. Is there even a Cathy without him?

Tough shit. You did this, now you deal with it.

Even if I wanted to get Ben back, it’s too late for us. Too damn late.

I close my eyes for a moment, too exhausted to fight the memories. I let them take over, enfolding me in a bittersweet cloak made of yesterdays. The first time we kissed in the rain, the first time we said I love you, the day he proposed to me, the time he held me as I bled...these memories are all I have left of Ben, of our love, and they belong to me. And nothing will ever take them away from me. Nothing—not even my lying¸ cheating, deceitful heart.

As I start to drive again, my phone keeps ringing, but I ignore it.

Like I ignored it last night and all day today.

Arsen.

I need him. I need to see him. He’ll be able to take the pain away, make me forget like he always does with his numbing kisses and morphine-like touch. He’s the beautiful painkiller that my broken body and my shattered heart demand to stop hurting. I laugh like a crazed woman because I truly have no shame left and I don’t give a shit about it as long as I can make the agonizing ache of losing Ben disappear.

After I park the car in the garage of his building, I take the elevator to Arsen’s apartment. I glance around the square space and I’m able to see myself reflected on the mirrored walls; my eyes are puffy from crying, my skin pale from throwing up, and my lips still swollen from last night. As I look at the deranged woman staring back at me, I try to push thoughts of Ben away from my conscience.

By the time I make my way to his apartment, my body is shaking violently from nerves. I don’t know where we will go from here. What happens now? I love Ben, yet I’m standing in front of someone else’s door, waiting for him to fuck the pain and memories out of my head.

I happen to love this man too.

I gulp as I stand outside his apartment trying not to think about anything other than the physical release that my body requires from Arsen. I ignore the shouting voice inside my head telling me that Arsen is the wrong choice. If he is the wrong choice, why does it feel so good when I’m with him?

After ringing the doorbell, Arsen opens the door immediately and lets me in without saying a word. He looks like hell, maybe even worse than I do. Wearing only his Armani boxer briefs and nothing else, I can see the contours of his perfect body and the way his golden skin accentuates every groove and plain of his muscles. Whenever I see the dimples right above his ass and the deep vee peeking out of his underwear, an urge to lick him there takes over me.

I look up and absorb his achingly beautiful features. His eyes are bloodshot, his blond hair is a mess, and the dark shadows of his stubble give his face a menacing quality. Yes, I want him to fuck me raw. I want him to leave scratches, bruises, and red marks on me as proof of what I have done. I want him to fuck me until the physical pain numbs my entire being and my orgasms numb my mind.

In silence, we stare at each other for a long time. Arsen is the first one to speak. “Where have you been?” he asks shortly. “How come you haven’t answered my fucking phone calls? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you since last night.” He drags his hands through his hair repeatedly. “You said you were going back to your house to end things with him. How long could that have taken you?”

Watching his anger surface is like watching a tornado about to hit an unsuspecting town. Powerful. Breathtaking. Devastating.

“What the fuck is going on? Why are you standing there saying nothing?” Arsen walks towards me and grabs me by the shoulders just like Ben did not two hours ago, shaking me forcefully, desperately. “You were with him, weren’t you? You spent the night with him,” he asks repugnantly.

Nodding, I hear him curse under his breath.

“Did you fuck him?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“How many times?”

I shake my head and try to move away from him, but Arsen tightens his grip on me, stopping me. “Look at me when I speak to you and answer my question.” His voice wavers, “How many fucking times, Catherine?” Once he realizes that I won’t answer him, he shakes me once more, almost as if the action will push the truth out. “Fucking answer!”

“Three times,” I say as I watch him flinch.

“Did you come?” he asks, swallowing hard.

“Yes.” I did. Every time.

“How?”

“What do you mean how?”

“How did he make you come? Did he fuck you from behind? Did he eat your pussy? Did he—”

“Stop! Stop!” I shout as I cover my ears. His words are making me sick. The truth makes me sick.

“Answer the fucking questions. How did he make you come? I want to know.”

“The first time he made love to me, he was on top of me. W-we came as we stared at each other. The second time, I sucked his dick until he came in my mouth as he a-ate my p-p-pussy. The third time, he fucked me from behind on the edge of our bed.”

“Did you think about me?” he asks hoarsely.

“No.”

Arsen lets go of me. Fisting his hands, he closes his eyes as his breathing accelerates. When he stares at me once more, the harsh look in his eyes makes me take a few steps back.

“Catherine, go to my room, get naked, and wait for me there. Do not ask fucking questions and do what I tell you.” He burns me with his blue gaze, “Go. Now.” He turns around and heads to his kitchen, leaving me alone.

In his bathroom, I take my Burberry trench coat off, my cream-colored cashmere sweater and skinny jeans next. My black-lace bra and panties are last. When I’m nude I walk out of his bathroom, expecting an empty room, but Arsen is already there, naked and slowly pumping his erection in his hand. As he watches me walk towards him with preying eyes, I can feel myself getting wet. A foot away from him, I’m about to reach for him and kiss him, but Arsen lifts a staying hand.

“Get on your knees,” he angrily commands. “I want you to get on your fucking knees. Now.”

Stunned, I try to process his words.

“I SAID NOW, YOU FUCKING SLUT! GET ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES!”

Wincing as if he has slapped me, I get on my knees in front of him. I want to be angry that he called me a slut, but I am one. I’m a whore who cheated on her husband and now I’m back in my lover’s apartment.

I am a slut.

I can feel the coolness of the marble floor seeping into my skin. I raise my eyes to stare at him standing above me, his raging erection so close to my face.

“Now open your mouth for me.”

As I open my mouth, I can feel a shameful flush covering me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Mortified, I close my eyes as he grabs his dick in his hand and begins to push it inside my mouth.

“Open your eyes. I want to watch them as I fuck your face.”

When I do, we stare at each other as he fills my mouth with his throbbing erection. I wrap a hand around his dick and begin to lick the head, swallowing the pre cum that makes the tip glisten. My body is instantly aroused, and my nipples pebble under his gaze.

“Bite it,” Arsen orders, his breathing coming fast and short. “Let me feel your teeth around my cock.”

I shake my head no and I’m about to let go of him.

His hips push forward until I feel him hit the back of my throat. I’m kneeling and trying not to gag with his thrusts. Tears of shame burning my eyes, my vision is blurry as I look at his enraged face.

“I said to fucking bite it!”

He’s doing this on purpose.

Hurting me.

Humiliating me.

“Fuuuck!” he exclaims as I bite him. The sick and twisted side of me actually enjoys it. Physically hurting him.

His hands go to the back of my head, fisting my hair as he pulls me closer to him. Picking up the punishing pace, he thrusts into my mouth painfully and without mercy.

Faster.

Faster.

Trying to breathe through my nose, I fight my gag reflexes as my own saliva and tears cover my chin and face.

“This mouth,”

He thrusts deeper.

“is,”

He thrusts harder.

“mine.”

He explodes inside my mouth as he pumps a few more times until I have swallowed him clean. Arsen shivers and pulls himself out of my mouth with a popping sound. His shoulders and chest contracting with deep and heavy breathing, he looks down at me still kneeling on the floor with stormy eyes. “Remember that the next time you fuck your husband,” he states and leaves his bedroom.

I’m naked and sitting on the tile floor of his shower stall with my arms wrapped around my legs as scalding hot water pours down on me, stinging my skin and turning it a bright red.

I’m so numb.

So lost.

I shut my eyes tightly as I try to make the images of what happened back in the bedroom disappear. When I lean my head on my knees, feeling the boiling water burn my back, I hear Arsen opening the door to the bathroom. Not wanting to face him, I turn to look at the wall.

“Catherine…” he whispers huskily.

I ignore him as I feel a knot on the back of my throat. I can’t cry in front of him, he doesn’t deserve my tears, so I shut my eyes tighter and scoot closer to the wall.

I sense the moment Arsen kneels in front of me, his cool hands touching both of my knees. I open my eyes as he grabs my hand and moves to lie down on the floor, bringing me down with him and climbing on top of me, shielding me from the scalding water as it pours down on us. Face to face, chest to chest, beating heart against beating heart, both of his hands cupping my cheeks as we stare at each other.

Never this close.

Never this far.

I put my arms in between us to push him away, but he stops me when he begins to desperately kiss my lips. Between broken murmurs, Arsen whispers frantically against my lips. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please, stop. Don’t cry anymore. Don’t cry…I’m so sorry. I’m not worthy of your tears. Fuck. Fuck.”

Sitting on the floor, Arsen lifts me on top of him and holds me in his arms. My legs wrapped around his hips, I cannot bring myself to reciprocate the embrace, so I stare at his golden beauty as water drips down his face. I cry harder when I see the mistiness in his eyes.

“Oh, Arsen…” I whisper against his mouth. “Don’t you understand? I feel you on my skin, I feel your taste in my tongue, I feel your hardness inside me, and it’s never enough.”

“Fuck, Catherine. Please forgive me, forgive me, forgive me,” he repeats brokenly. He points to his chest with a closed fist, “This belongs to you. Only you, Catherine. It’s been yours since the day I met you, and it will be yours until you don’t want it anymore.” Growling, he pulls me closer to him, “I just want your hands on my body, your lips on my mouth, and your heart to be mine. Only mine.”

Lost in his words, we kiss, and then we fuck. But for once, it feels like he is making love to me.

Taste.

Sweat.

Feel.

Wetness.

Warmth.

Hardness.

Thrusts.

Fingers.

Slap…

Slap…

Slap…

Skin against skin.

Legs trembling.

Hair pulling.

Nails breaking through skin.

Arsen moving inside me.

My hands and legs wrapped around him.

His eyes boring into mine.

Aqua-blue fire burning me to ashes.

Nothing exists.

Nothing matters, but him.

It’s just Arsen.

And me.

Moving to the aggressive rhythm of his forceful thrusts.

Raw.

So Raw.

It hurts.

But I love it.

I love him.

His roughness feels like love.

His love is like a numbing drug.

He is my drug.

My numbness.

He whispers in my ear, “You belong to me...only me...I need you...we need each other.”

I close my eyes and get lost in mind numbing release, not hearing the last words he whispers in my ear as he comes inside me once more.

Sitting with my arms wrapped around my knees next to Arsen, I watch him sleep, looking so boyish and content. But even his perfection can’t stop the pain, the guilt, and shame from resurfacing. I’m disgusted by how low I’ve brought myself. I hate myself because I can’t let go of Arsen. And I hate myself for all the pain I’ve caused.

I lift a hand to caress his cheek feeling the stubble of his chin. Yes, I do love him. I love Arsen because he taught me to move on, live life, and forget. I love him because he makes me laugh. I love him because he opened my eyes to life and helped me heal. And I love him because he’s Arsen.

But he just isn’t my Ben.

The memory of Ben and the way we parted is pure agony. It hurts to breathe. But as I watch Arsen sleep next to me, knowing full well that I don’t deserve him, I don’t deserve anyone, I make a promise to myself. I will let Ben go and grieve for him in silence. I will do whatever is in my power to show Arsen my gratitude for having given me so much without even knowing it. If my life has taught me anything, it’s that you can’t hold onto anything that wants to go. Ben tried so hard to hold onto our relationship, onto our past, but it didn’t matter because I still cheated on him, I still planned on leaving him. So I will love Arsen while I have him with whatever I have left in me, whatever doesn’t belong to Ben, and that’s that.

One month later.

The pain is still here.

I haven’t heard from Ben, so I’ve been able to pretend that everything is peachy and perfect with Arsen. He doesn’t ask questions and I don’t bring it up. The past month has proven to be one of the happiest in a long time, but there’s something basic missing, lacking…something that won’t allow me to be complete. There’s an underlying pain that I continue to ignore. I hope that someday it goes away and that the love I feel for him will disappear too, allowing me to love Arsen completely.

Love.

We haven’t said the words yet, but I know he loves me. He must. It’s written in the way he holds my hand when we sleep, in the way he combs my hair, in the way he feeds me strawberries while we drink champagne naked on his bed, and the way he makes love to me. I know it’s there.

I love him.

When I’m with Arsen, I don’t think about Ben. Not once, not ever. It’s like Ben is an afterthought, a memory. Yet the moment Arsen steps away, thoughts of Ben swallow me whole. Melancholy fills me, and I can’t shake it until I’m in Arsen’s arms.

It’s not the perfect situation, but we are happy and somehow we’ve made it work. I never went back to work, so we keep each other busy during the days with museum visits, walks in the park, and at night we make love or fuck. I know we are both avoiding real life, but when we are together we can pretend that everything is perfect.

The paparazzi know about us now. At first they were obsessed and even dragged my divorce into the whole mess, but the attention has dissipated. I don’t know if Ben has read all the articles about us, but my dad won’t speak to me.

The last time I saw Amy, she told me not to confuse fucking with love when I told her that I had left Ben for Arsen. She said that it was easy to confuse physical gratification with the real deal, but at the end that’s all it was. Just plain old fucking.

I stopped talking to her. I don’t want to believe her words. I can’t.

After the usual pee in a cup, take down your weight, and check your blood pressure, I’m sitting on the bed in a paper gown opened at the front, exposing my breasts as I wait for Dr. Pajaree. Three days ago, Arsen found a small bump on the left one. After freaking out, he urged me to make a doctor appointment. I’m sure I’m fine, but here I am at his insistence.

When my phone vibrates, I stand up and grab it out of my bag. There’s a text message from Arsen.

Arsen: I want you in the worst possible way. You’re the drug that offers me relief…that energizes me again…that soothes me…that delivers me sweet oblivion. You’re my drug of choice, Catherine. You’re my addiction. My euphoria.

I blush and recall the things he did to me last night with a bottle of champagne and the places he drank it from.

After Dr. Pajaree comes in and checks my breasts for lumps, not finding anything but an enlarged lymph node, she tells me to meet her in her office once I’m dressed. I feel relieved because the small lump turned to be nothing, yet anxious because I think that she wants to ask me how I’m doing and about the magazine articles. How am I going to tell her that since she last saw us, Ben filed for divorce and that I’m currently living with a twenty four year old man?

Dressed, I make my way to her office. As soon as I’m sitting in front of her, I notice that she’s avoiding looking at me directly in the eyes. Worried that she found something, I’m about to ask her what the problem is when she interrupts me.

“Cathy. You’re pregnant.”

In a daze, I make my way to Arsen’s apartment. I can’t be pregnant again. I can’t. When the cab drops me off in front of Arsen’s building, I swear I see Ben’s black Maybach pulling away from the curb, but it’s not possible. I’m imagining things because of what I just found out, so I let it go and forget about it as I pay the cabdriver.

Fumbling with the keys to Arsen’s apartment door, I want to cry with happiness and apprehension. I grimace when I remember that I’m seven weeks into my pregnancy. Ben or Arsen could be the father.

When I step into the apartment, Arsen walks out the bedroom dressed in washed jeans and a light blue v-neck sweater. His blond hair is longer than usual. I’d mentioned that I love it long, so he’s letting it grow.

“Damn, Dimples, what the fuck did we do this morning?” he laughs, making his eyes sparkle with a devious light. “I mean, how could the sheets get that wet?”

He pulls me in for a hug, wrapping his hands around my waist and kissing my neck. There’s a desperation in his embrace that I haven’t felt coming from him since the day I left Ben.

“I missed you so fucking much,” he roughly whispers in my ear as he inhales my perfume. Moving his chest slightly away so we can look at each other, he brings a hand to cup my cheek. “I’m glad you’re home…Now, please tell me I’m a fucking psycho and there was nothing wrong.”

Oh.

How could I even begin to tell him what Dr. Pajaree found without scaring him? Will he freak out? I can’t believe it myself, and I’m still in shock. Is it even possible? I want to ignore the treacherous hope gathering in my chest, I want to smother it before it kills me again, but I can’t.

I can’t.

I can’t.

Upon leaving the office, my first instinct was to call Ben, but I decided I should write him an email instead. My chest tightens just thinking about the news and Ben. It’s not like it’s a big deal. Knowing my past history, this baby may never see the light of day. Would Ben even be interested?

Lost in thought, I hear Arsen talking, snapping me out of my trance. I focus my gaze on his face as questions swim in my head. I decide he needs to know. I swallow hard as I touch the base of my neck, preparing myself to deliver the best, and possibly the most painful, news in our short relationship.

“No, no. Um…uh…everything is okay. Arsen…I need to tell you something. Do you want to sit down?”

“What the hell is going on? You’re scaring me,” he whispers as he narrows his eyebrows.

“I’m pr—” I breathe once and finish the sentence, “I’m pregnant.”

Dumbfounded, he lets go of my arm and sits down on the floor, reclining his head and back against the wall.

Well, I guess that answers my question.

“Is that even possible?” he breathes. “I mean, not to sound like an asshole but what are the chances of it even working out?”

Did he really just say that to me?

“I don’t know. Dr. Pajaree said that it happens…sometimes you just get pregnant without an explanation. I’m still considered very high risk. I think she was talking about a cream to help m—”

“I can’t, Cathy. I never signed on to be a father. I thought we were just having fun.” His voice is drained of laughter and flirtatiousness. “I can give you that, you know. Fun. But I can’t be a father. I’m sorry.”

I can’t say that I’m shocked by this response. I always knew that what we have would eventually end, I just didn’t expect it that it would be this way—that Arsen could dismiss me so carelessly. Amy and Ben’s warnings have come true after all.

“I-I…you wanted me to leave my husband. Y-you said so.” I stupidly remind him.

“Yes.”

“I thought you loved me. I mean, you’ve never said it, but I g-got the feeling you did.” There. I’ve said it. I don’t even know why I’m asking him this, it doesn’t matter, we’re over, but I guess I need to know. I want to know.

“Yes, maybe. I don’t know Cathy.” He glances around the room as if looking for an answer, the right answer, then turns to look at me once more. “I guess I do, but not enough to have a family with you. I’m not ready, and…I don’t know. I don’t love you like that.”

Suddenly very dizzy, I step back looking for something to hold onto before I fall. When my lower back hits the back of a chair, I sit and continue to listen to Arsen break my heart with his words. Dispassionately, I notice he’s calling me Cathy. He hasn’t called me by that name since the day we met.

“We have fun together, Cathy. However, no promises were ever made. I thought we were just—”

“Just what? Having fun? Was this always about fucking to you? What about me?” My words make him flinch.

Good.

“I like you, you’re cool. But yes…it was always about a good fucking, and you never seemed to be interested in more.”

“I can’t. I can’t. Are you even listening to yourself? I left my husband for you! How could that be just about a good fucking? What about your jealousy? Y-you told me I was yours!” I scream at him, hysteria beginning to take over me.

“Fuck, Cathy, what do you want me to say? I don’t like sharing. That’s all.”

“Sharing me? Are you fucking joking? Sharing me with my own husband? I cheated on him with you!”

“Well, I think it would’ve happened regardless. I saw a chance and took it.”

My body shaking violently, I pretend that this is not happening. That this is a horrible nightmare. Yes, that’s it. A nightmare. Arsen would never do this to me. Oh, God. I’m going to be sick. I close my eyes and try to fight the nausea when I hear him throw the last blow to my gut.

“I think you should go back to your husband. I love you, but not that way, Cathy. Not that way. I mean…is the baby even mine? For all I know, it could be his. After all, you were fucking both of us at the same time.”

I stand up, grab my bag, and head to the door. I turn around and look at Arsen who is watching me with the saddest eyes which is odd. He’s the one ending whatever we have.

I can’t bring myself to feel anything. It’s as if all emotions, good or bad, have been wiped from me. I’m truly paralyzed from the inside out.

“I don’t know who the father is, Arsen. Not that it matters because knowing my body, I probably won’t be able to carry it full term.” I watch Arsen close his eyes at my words. “As for Ben, I cheated on him with you, and he filed for divorce. So yes, that won’t work.”

Arsen stands up and makes his way to the door. I raise a trembling hand to stop him. “Don’t take a step closer to me, Arsen, or I will slap you so hard I will leave a mark. I knew this was going to happen…I knew it. It was too good to be true, but I never thought you would turn out to be such an asshole. I guess that’s what I deserve…I did the same thing to Ben.” Turning around, I put my hand on the handle.

“Dimples…I—” he says painfully.

“Good-bye, Arsen.”

Lying in Amy’s bed as she hugs me, I want to cry and scream but do neither. Staring at the sage green walls of her room, the fight is gone from me. I feel nothing.

I’m vacant.

Empty.

Hollow.

The only reminder that I’m alive is the pain around my chest. It’s unbearable but welcome at the same time because it helps me drown the memories of Arsen and Ben. I close my eyes tightly and pull Amy closer to me.

My chest…

I can’t breathe…

I can’t.

I punish myself once more, and I recall my meeting with Ben and the way he looked at me. The disgust and hurt on his face, his painful words.

After talking to Amy about my situation, she’d agreed that I needed to get in touch with Ben and tell him the truth. He deserved to know what was going on, even though there was a very high chance that nothing would come of it. So I called him and told him to meet me at the Starbucks around the corner from her apartment.

I remember walking to the coffee shop, sick to my stomach and thinking about Arsen. I thought I saw him following me to the store. I recall turning around, thinking that I saw his blond head sticking out of the crowd, but he was nowhere to be seen.

I was sitting on one of those maroon colored couches where your body automatically sinks in because they are so worn out as I inhaled the aroma of coffee and caramel floating in the air. Soon after I sat down, Ben walked in. He had changed. I hadn’t seen him in a month, and he didn’t look like the same man I was married to for six years at all. He had lost so much weight that he looked gaunt, and his clothes were hanging off his body. His usually pristine handsome face was covered in a thick beard, and the only thing you could see were his lips. His maple brown eyes looked blank and bleak, and the bags under them looked almost purple they were so dark. There was so much anger oozing off him...

I knew I couldn’t tell him.

And his words proved I was right. Without saying hello or asking me how I’m doing he got to the point.

“I agreed to meet you here because, frankly, I’m curious as to what you have to say. What is it?” He spits the words at me.

I told him what I’d wanted to say all along.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I g-guess I wanted to apologize to you once more.”

Lie, lie, lie.

“Oh? Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that, Cathy?” he answered as I stared into his beautiful yet empty eyes.

Yes…

I knew right then and there that I still loved him so much. Not even Arsen had been able to erase it. I’d been fooling myself.

“Where is Arsen? I’m surprised you were able to step away from fucking him long enough to meet me. I mean, back when we were married I was lucky if I got to spend five minutes with you on any given day.”

I flinched at his words. They hurt.

“He, um, uh…he’s gone.” I looked down at my hands.

Ben laughed. “Whoa. That was fucking fast. I’ve got to give it to the kid. Think he got tired of fucking you, huh? Tell me, pretty Cathy, you didn’t give it good enough? Think he got tired of you sucking his dick?” He wiped away tears from his eyes before continuing, “How long has it been? Two or three weeks? The magazines seemed to have lost interest in you two.”

“A month,” I said silently.

Ben stood up and looked down at me with a cruel smile on his lips. “Well, I hope you’re happy. Eleven years down the drain for a month of fucking. And no. I can’t forgive you. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, he opened them and pinned me with his angry gaze once more. “I hate you as much as I loved you. Probably more because I can’t fucking make myself stop. I have to go. I can’t do this anymore.”

He turned around and left. I was crying by then, so I didn’t see him coming back. I only noticed it once he put his hands on the table, and leaned down to whisper in my ear, “You know, Cathy, you were supposed to be my past, my present, my future…my forever. But now…nothing is left. You broke me, you hear me? You broke me. I look at your eyes and your beautiful face, and it still fucking hurts. You fucking bitch, it still hurts. I want to erase every single memory of you. Every single one, until I can wake up one day without thinking about you. Until it doesn’t fucking kill me to think what you did to us. Do you hear me? Please, don’t try calling me again to apologize. I want you out of my fucking life. Out of it.”

Then he was gone

“What are you going to do, babe?” Amy asks.

I shake my head. I can’t speak because the pain is so unbearable. I’m trying to breathe in through my nose and exhale through my mouth to see if it will help me get past the overwhelming feeling that I’m not getting enough air into my lungs. The worst part is that I don’t know whom and what I’m grieving for anymore. Arsen, Ben, the way Arsen dismissed our relationship, or Ben’s anger and his hatred. I bury my face in Amy’s neck and let the physical contact soothe me to sleep. I’m so tired. So tired.

Can you hear it? The sound of my heart breaking, ceasing to beat.

Can you feel it? Excruciating pain, eating me alive, slowly tearing me apart limb by limb.

It’s my fault. Only mine. Not his. Not theirs.

I’m alone.

“Cathy, love. Whatever happens, I’m here. Just know that. You can move in and live here for as long as you want. As you know, I’ve been seeing Charles for a while now. He really liked you, and he feels like shit for what Arsen did to you. Anyway, we will help you through the entire process. You don’t need those two assholes in your life. You need to be dickless for a while and focus on this pregnancy, focus on the good things in your life. Maybe call your dad? He’ll forgive you. Okay?” she whispers as she runs her hands through my hair.