All Bad

40. End Of The Road

Although we've come to the end of the road
Still I can't let you go
It's unnatural, you belong to me, I belong to you.....
- Boys 11 Men

Brie's POV

His mouth rested against mine, his fingers tangled up in my hair. We lay on his king sized bed, the sheets strewn all over the floor, and our bodies bathed in the silvery moonlight that peeked in through the gap in the curtains.

I was exhausted from the day's events, but my mind refused to rest. The knowledge that this would be the last time we would ever be together was suffocating. The thought that by the time the sun rose it'd be over was like a death penalty with dawn as the executioner. There was no way for me to get my head around this at all. It made no sense to me just how fickle our passion was; one moment we were desperately in love and the next we were breaking up. I couldn't comprehend it. I felt like I was going insane as I tried to work it out. It was like we were over, so he didn't love me? But when I'd tried to leave he'd begged me to stay. Maybe he just wanted sex, but even so, that meant he felt something more than nothing for me and I could handle that. For now.

The scratches I'd left on his chest during our fight earlier in the evening were joined by shallow wounds on his back, a reminder of the desperately passionate love we'd made during the night. He'd left his own marks on me in return, dozens of love bites on my skin; on my neck, my breasts, between my thighs...

It was all too much. I rolled over, away from him, pulling my arms around myself. I bit down on my lip, almost holding my breath, as I fought back all the emotions that threatened to drown me if I were to let them loose. Justin automatically followed my movements and moved up behind me, snuggling his face into the crook of my neck, even though he was still fast asleep.

This just didn't make any sense.

-----
Justin's POV

I sat on the edge of the bed with my head clutched in my hands. I stared down at the cream colored carpet, unable to watch Brie pack her bags, knowing that I wouldn't see her again. A common misconception in relationships is that the one who initiates the break up doesn't care. I was living proof that that was bullshit, because right now I felt like I was being torn apart.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy. It was as if huge gray clouds were presiding over us, filling the space with what felt like endless gloom.

I was so conflicted. I wasn't sure of my decision to end things, but I couldn't see any option that would enable us to make things work. It felt like this relationship was tearing Brie and I apart and destroying every positive attribute we each had. I didn't recognize myself anymore. I hated the person I'd become in regards to Brie; how I'd try and manipulate her, how I'd guilt her and treat her cruelly. It wasn't how I wanted to treat my girlfriend, but I didn't trust her enough to feel like I didn't need to control her every move by any means necessary. I was terrified it'd only get worse and it was like I didn't have any control of my actions when it came to her.

"I'm all done," Brie said, halting the tormented thoughts that had been relentlessly running through my mind.

I looked up at her and instantly wished that I hadn't; she looked exactly how I felt.

"Okay," I responded as confidently as I could. As if I was confused and unsure.

I got up off of the bed and walked towards her. She turned away from me as I approached; trying to hide the tears that I'd already witnessed shining in her eyes.

"Brie..." I reached for her arm and turned her towards me. She kept her head down as she faced me; she looked so much smaller than she had when we first met, she barely seemed like the same girl I'd met in the VIP section at Opera.