HeartBreaker | Book 1

Moral Compass

Chapter Thirty-One

Moral Compass

It's now been ten days since I last spoke to Desirae and a week since giving up on trying to contact her.

My heart breaks and I miss her more and more as the days go by.

I sit on my couch and read the letter her grandmother sent me yesterday, over and over again.

At first, I was over the moon at the fact that she reached out to me; but after reading the very upsetting letter, it only made me feel worse about the entire situation.

I unnecessarily read the letter once more, I could probably recite the whole thing by now.

She wrote;

'Dearest Christopher,

I hope you are doing well.

As I understand it; yourself and Desirae had a rather huge disagreement. I will do my best in trying to stay on the fence because through the time we've spent together, I've grown rather fond of you.

I know you have a good heart Chris; I know you mean well and I trust that I don't need to already point out your faults as I'm sure you're already dwelling on them as well as this entire situation you and Des are in.

Desirae, is different.

She is hurt and I'm afraid she will retreat to the dark places she was once stuck in.

It is like the fire that burned in her eyes has been put out.

A fire that I know only you could ignite.

Sometimes, love blinds us; which is why you need to think with your mind and feel with your heart; not the other way around.

I trust in the goodness in you, that you will find a way to make things right.

With only love,

Maeline Wiley.'

I know I need to make things right; but how? Where do I start?

I wish Desirae's grandmother, Maeline, would tell me what to do instead of putting so much trust in the fact that I have a moral compass.

It devastates me to think about the extent in which I ruined this girl's life.

I know how she feels. Hopeless.

Losing everything you hold dear because of someone else's selfish actions.

But what should I do? Think Chris, THINK.

My phone rings in my pocket and derails my thought train.

It's Janine.

"Hallo," I answer urgently, desperate to get this call over with so I could go back to thinking.

"Good morning, Chris, I take that things are going well?" says her giddy voice.

If only she knew.

"Yeah," I lie; not really in the mood to divulge in everything.

"Good, good... I'm really overjoyed by the fact that you got so much out of this program Chris, I really wanted the best for you; you and Desirae are just two peas in a pod!" she cackles.

Oh how devastatingly true she is.

I don't say anything, too afraid that my voice will sound as emotional as I'm beginning to feel.

"You know, I always say 'no matter how broken something is; it could always be put back together; cracks aren't flaws, they're marks that tell a story..."

"That sounds like something Desirae would say," I chime in, when get a sudden thought.

It's as if a light bulb goes off in my head.

That's it.

I've got to mend what I've broken. I've got to literally piece together what I've shattered.

"Look, thanks Janine, really for everything; there's just something I have to do," I say putting my phone down and running into the next room packing my rucksack.

"Well don't let me hold you up, I'll call you soon, bye!" I hear her voice from my bedroom.

I swing my rucksack on my shoulder and check the time on my watch. 11:16AM.

Desirae would probably still be in class at the community college.

I arrive at Desirae's apartment complex nearly twenty minutes later.

I look up at her apartment window of her studio; something tells me that the person my heart aches for is not up there, thankfully in this case.

I rush up. Her grandmother opens up the door, nods and promptly lets me in without a word or a second glance. 

I walk into Desirae's studio.

The room is dusty and it feels abandoned; like it hasn't been visited in too long.

Tragically; everything is exactly the way I left it.

The shattered gold and white sculpture on the ground, the empty paint cans and dried paint brushes scattered across the timber floor.

Tears build in my eyes as I get vivid flashbacks of one of the most horrible nights of my life.

I look to the corner and I see the painting that Desirae painted of me. Somehow I see more of myself in the painting now, than I did last time I saw it.

I shake myself out of it and remind myself why I'm here in the first place.

I grab a table and I move it towards the shattered sculpture on the floor. I grab a neighbouring stool and I sit.

One by one, I pick up the different sized pieces of the broken sculpture and glue it together.

I've never admired Desirae's craft like I do now.

Each piece I carefully placed. It was time consuming; but it felt like I was being consumed in it too.

I got into a zone where the only thought on my mind was Desirae.

After hours of building up what I'd shattered and many finger cuts later; I had finally finished.

The sculpture looked exactly as how I remember it; with the exception of many cracks running along the once smooth surface of the sculpture.

Somehow; I liked this one better; I'm probably a jerk for thinking it, but I feel like it's a better representation of Desirae.

Her lightning-like energy, represented in the cracks.

This sculpture, very much like Desirae, is cracked at every edge; but she is the most beautiful masterpiece.

I look at my watch; 4:37PM.

Desirae will be here any minute.

Before I pack up and leave, I seize the opportunity to leave Desirae a letter; it feels right.

I take a piece of paper out of her notebook and I pour my 10 days' worth of apologies, thoughts, ideas and things that I wanted to tell Desirae that I couldn't.

After the second page, the cuts of my fingers bleed again. I drop the pencil; clean my hands and leave before Desirae arrives, but not before writing; 'I love you.'