A barista in a café stumbles over a black-haired artist often ordering the same: a cup of plain black coffee.
When she ventures to enter his life, who makes her heart flutter like no other, life slaps back with a "not too fast". She discovers his s...
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. . .
Icouldn’t talk to Blake anymore.
The more I did, the worse of a man he looked in my eyes, and the less of a human I felt.
The first thing I thought I should do was grabbing an alcohol bottle. I chugged down half of it. I didn’t care what happened to me after at all—I didn’t want to be sober. It was devastating how many times I got fooled yet didn’t learn.
I was so desperate to get the man off my mind to stop feeling stupid and the reason everything turned that way. Nonetheless, I was the reason. I let him in my life. I let him do that to me. I was that stupid.
I wondered how he could be that low and tell two girls he was into them at the same time. How was it possible to have two people in your heart? Did his ex leave him because he was that type of person?
What I was facing was a first to me. Never thought someone would claim to like two people…cheat for sex, yes, but loving both seemed incredible to me.
I was close to ripping my hair off in disappointment. That Blake I talked to… he couldn’t be the same person I liked.
A whole bottle was over. I was falling into a familiar hellhole, and I didn’t know what to do just like before. I couldn’t tell anyone about what was happening to me in fear of people’s judgement since I already got enough in my last relationship.
The world was truly cruel, and I was lonely in it.
I should relax and think rationally, I told myself. My weak body slid down by the bannister of my balcony, a place that had become the container of my shitty moods. My fingers ran in my chestnut waves, trying to stimulate myself to think better even when drunk.
I should leave him. That was the first thing I thought of. I shouldn’t be with someone uncommitted like Blake, but my heart liked him so much for my good, which probably made me an immoral person. Bad people loved who were like them, I guessed.
Just then, I learnt I didn’t have control over my heart. He was right. One couldn’t control how they felt, and it sucked. I pointed towards my chest with a ridiculous smirk. The blood pillow between my ribs was stronger than my mind could ever think. It made me laugh humourlessly.
The situation made me feel as though it was my fault. Was I not enough? Not pretty, intelligent, or sweet enough? Did he just want me as a side chick while he stayed in California?
How much better was Emily? She must have been some superwoman to have Noah and Blake tied to her like puppets.
“I’m back! Traffic was horrible—fuck, what are you doing?”
Noah rushed to me. I was sprawled on the floor with the bottle of alcohol loosely gripped between my fingers. I coughed and shivered on my spot.
He held me in his lap and asked, “Babe, are you okay?!”
I nodded. “Just get me to the toilet, please. I’m—”
He knew I was about to throw up, so he quickly carried me to the toilet seat and held up my hair. I felt pitiful. I loathed myself in that state when I couldn’t even help myself to the toilet.
“Cassandra, please hold up. It’s not the end of the world, and it tugs on my heart to see you like that.”
I shook my head sideways. “I’m dumb, Noah. It feels like déjà vu, like when I was that dumb twenty-year-old who trusted her boyfriend with her nudes, who in return sold them and got her raped. I suffer because I’m dumb.”
. . .
Iwas very sad writing this. It was a little triggering too. I'm sorry to any lady who has gone thru such trauma.
