Chapter Twenty-Four

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I lift my face from my hands as a knock sounds from my door. I remain quiet, wiping my wet cheeks slowly. Oh no.

"Emma, I know you're in there. I saw you from the window."

I close my eyes at his voice, standing. I want to answer it and yet, I don't. I press my body against the door.

"Look, Emma, I know I probably scared you back there. And I'm sorry. I'd really like to-to talk to you... if you could open the door."

I take a moment before backing up, undoing the lock. I open the door slowly, waiting to look into his eyes until the door is wide open. He takes in my disheveled appearance, large, baggy t-shirt that hangs halfway down my thighs, my red, swollen face and breathes in, chest large and unmoving. He doesn't move from his spot, probably waiting for me to say something. However, my speech is gone. I don't know what I'd even say if I could.

So, I turn, leaving the door open and walk towards the kitchen, tearing a napkin from the roll. Wiping beneath my nose, I hear the door shut, gently and wonder why he's here.

"Want a drink?" I whisper, not sounding like myself. He stops by the counter, leaning forward.

"No, no. I just came to apologize... for the way I acted."

I close my eyes, feeling only pain. I feel it's a long time before I speak again.

"You haven't changed your mind?"

"No... I haven't."

I turn, looking at him finally, on the verge of tears. "You're really going to leave?"

"I have to, Emma," he whispers, frowning. I shake my head, disgusted.

"You don't!" I growl. "You are just giving up!"

"Emma-"

"No! I let you yell and shout and scream and scare the shit out of me back there in your apartment but now it's my fucking turn! Why? Why do this to me, why date me if you were never going to follow through?"

"I tried, Emma."

"You did jack shit! It's been what... a few weeks? And you're running at the first sign of trouble."

"You brought that horrible woman into my home and it just- it brought everything back, Emma," he says. "I lose myself when I confront my past."

"Obviously," I mutter, grabbing a wine glass. I need liquor. "You know, I've never had a man speak to me the way you just did in your apartment. Never."

"And I'm mortified. Emma, I really am... But this is exactly why I need to let you go."

I extend my arms, shaking my had in disbelief. "Oh, stop it! Don't say you're doing this for me! Don't take the noble way out. If you're going to leave me, I want you to tell me I was nothing to you and walk out that door and never come back. Now, can you do that?"

"No! Of course I can't. You know you weren't nothing to me!"

I chuckle, pressing my hands between my eyes. "You're already using us in past-tense... I can't believe this. I really can't."

I walk towards the kitchen, wishing I could be just angry. Wishing I could stop the tears. I can't. The sound of my pain, the cries, fill the area and within moments, I feel his hand grasp my arm.

"Please, stop, Em. Please."

"Don't touch me," I snarl, pulling my arm from his reach. I turn to look at him, finding his face transformed, pained. I wipe underneath my eyes, uncomfortable under his scrutiny and back up, crossing my arms over my body.

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