meant to be yours | d.w

56

"There are all kinds of love in the world but never the same love twice"

Rebecca Davis

April, 1965

Washing my neck has become a part of my routine before I leave his house. As I stood in front of the mirror, an old shirt of Randall's draped over me, I couldn't help but wonder where it all went wrong.

My mother was most definitely wondering where I was, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I told myself that I was going to break up with him that night, but I don't think you can break off something that wasn't ever truly real. Really, what was there to break? Sex that didn't even hurt me? Our smoking sessions my mother definitely wouldn't approve us? There's nothing to break.

I went back into his room only to see him asleep on his bed. Lying next to him, I hugged my knees to my chest and weeped silently to myself. I hate who I have become but most of all, I hate how lonesome I feel. Thinking you can replace someone with another person is a foolish mindset, and of course I know this now, but I can't bring myself to stop. I have to have him one last time. I have to pretend that I am not alone one final time. It's just one more time. How will that hurt me?

Nudging him, he awoke suddenly. When he noticed how much closer I had gotten to him, he was taken by surprise. He was typically used to my distance, but now I don't think I care anymore. I have become a girl truly tainted by death, and now, I am a girl tainted by her own battle with her sexuality.

Pulling me onto him, it was upsetting how little I felt. I knew this would be the last time, and I shouldn't really care how he touches me, but I hate how numb I feel.

It escalated very fast. Just like that. Soon, we were done and he asked me if I want to go again. But now, I don't really think I want this to be like all the other times. I want to be alone. I want to feel my own misery but all I can manage to do is attempt to find someone to fill the void.

Leaving the bed, I went to his bathroom for the final time. Now, I really can look in the mirror. I can see how my circles have grown less dark due to my stress being subdued. You don't really stress all that much when you learn to stop caring. But in my eyes, there's something so tainted about me. I'm not the girl I used to be, I know that's very clear. But still. I hate now far I've fallen from grace.

I hate what I have become, but most of all, I hate that I have allowed it all to escalate like this. I, the girl who fights for control at all times, have let myself go. When I looked into the depths of my own soul through that mirror, I decided that tonight was my last night here. I couldn't do this anymore. Being the girl who let herself be used.

I left late that night. And for the very last time, just like I said before.

But little did I know that something far more out of the blue awaited me at home.

I drove home, reviewing the past few months in my mind. "Perhaps it's time to start taking control your life." My brain told me. I knew the logical part of me was right, but it's too easy to stay true to the life I have been living for the past few months. Pot makes you forget all your troubles and I like it. Sex with him makes me forget about her and I don't love it, but I'll do what it takes to get rid of the pain.

But the second I pulled up into my driveway, I was met with the sight of police cars parked on the street.

There's these moments of intuition that you just get as a girl. I knew something was off not just due to the police cars, but because I could feel it.