band-aids don't fix bullet holes

{80} ghosts of the past

Travis' POV:

"What the hell?" I whisper, my face portraying a shocked expression. "What are you doing here!?"

I stare at the woman I once knew like the back of my hand. Her eyes are still the same - a strange mix of green and brown, shadowed by some deeper, darker current running beneath the surface. My heart does a weird thing in my chest, a mix of panic and something else. She looks the same but older, more worn around the edges. Dark hair, a bit messier than I remember, spilling down over her shoulders. She's got that smirk on her face, the one she always had when she was about to say something that would mess with my head.

"Hey stranger." She says, voice low, sweet, like she is whispering some secret between us. "Miss me?"

Her voice crawls under my skin, making it impossible to breathe for a second. My chest tightens. She shouldn't be here. I made sure of that. I left her behind. I left all of that behind.

"Kayla..." The name leaves my mouth like a curse, like it's something I need to spit out.
I take a step back, out of reach of her hand.
"What do you want?"

She tilts her head, like she's amused.

"What do I want? I wanted to see you. It's been a long time. Too long. Been seeing you a lot on the internet, figured you were here in New York."

I let out a scoff, memories flashing before my eyes: Late nights, empty bottles, the fog of smoke hanging in the air, the rush, the crash. I shake my head, trying to clear the images away.

"It's been years, Kayla. We're done. We've been done for forever. This is not the life I'm craving anymore. I'm happy without you and more importantly I'm clean. I can't say the same about you..." I study her face, the bags under her eyes prominent. It has always been her eyes, the one thing that gives away whether she is high or not.

She laughs, but there's no joy in it, just a cold, mocking sound that echoes in the space between us.

"You think you've changed?" She says. "You think you're better now? You can clean up, you can play at being someone else, but deep down, you're still the same. You'll always be the same."

"Believe or not, some people can change and I have. Look, my career is at it's peak and I'm dat-"

"Oh I know who you are dating, Travis and it's fucking ridiculous. She's a bitch, definitely doesn't deserve her fame." Kayla interrupts me before I can finish my sentence, though I don't flinch.

"No. You're wrong." For a second I think I see something flicker in her expression—anger, maybe, or something darker, something more fragile. But it's gone as quickly as it came. She sighs, her shoulders dropping like she's suddenly bored.

"We could've had everything." My ex-girlfriend expresses, her voice a whisper now, almost to herself. "You and me, against the world. Like it used to be."

I feel the pull, that magnetic tug that once drew me into her orbit, into her chaos. But there's nothing left in me for her now. Just the empty space where she used to be.

"I don't want that anymore." I repeat, more to myself than to her. "I don't want you."

She stares at me for a long moment, eyes narrowing slightly. Then she shrugs, the movement sharp and dismissive.

"Fine." she replies, stepping back. "But don't pretend you won't come looking for me when it all falls apart. You always do."

I swallow hard, before she pulls out a pen, grabs my hand and scribbles down her phone number on my skin.

"In case you change your mind." Kayla adds,  stands on her toes and pecks my cheek quickly. Then she turns on her heels and disappears as fast as she appeared a few minutes ago.
I stand there, staring at the empty street, my breath hanging in the air. I should feel relieved, but instead, there's a strange emptiness, a hollow space in the pit of my stomach that wasn't there a moment ago.