human ↦ calum hood {au}

thirty-three: tattoo

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE:

| lynette’s pov |

“And I called up your original doctor. She said that… well, you have a boyfriend named Calum. He knows all about this; he knows how to help you.” 

Anything said by the doctor after that didn’t stay in my head anymore. It was in the other ear, out the other.

So those dreams weren’t all fake, weren’t they? 

I should have known that he was too suspicious. He couldn’t possibly want to have to do anything with me if he didn’t want anything in return.

Why is it that he kept it from me?

The scenes of arguments replayed back in my head, and I was beginning to slightly understand what was happening before my eyes. 

I don’t want to think this way, but what if he was the one who did this? For revenge? 

I’m not as blameful as any typical girl who’s been broken up with, and I know I’ve said a lot of things that shouldn’t be told to anyone, but from what I remember right now, it’s taken a toll on him.

“I take out my heart, I give it to you, and you tear it apart. That’s the process– that’s always been the process.”

Those were the words he shouted at me before slamming the door shut. I recall the day vividly.

I clung onto his shirt that time, on my knees, begging him to stay with me for what seemed like the millionth time in our relationship.

I was wrong to ever scream at him first, for such a small mistake of getting two new tattoos. I was so caught up with the thought of perfection that I had forgotten what he’s done for me.

He’s helped me all my life. He always stayed and never complained when I would snap from such a hard day at work. He comforted me, and I didn’t see that at that time. 

I wanted things to be perfect, when I already had someone who was perfect enough for me.

“You probably know all the shit I’ve done by now.” Calum pulled me in his arms, holding me close in the middle of the hallway. “I don’t know how to explain how much I fucking deserve to get burned alive. You can turn me in to the police or better yet, just stab me with a knife or something. Go–“

I pulled away from him, causing him to stop speaking and to just stare at me, knowing it was my time to talk. “I wanted to fucking murder you earlier– I’m not even going to lie, Calum.” 

He winced, probably guilty, but instead of feeling happy that he was realizing his mistakes, I felt the heavy weight on my shoulders when I saw the tattoo on his arm. 

I’m not aware of my tear-stained cheeks. I only found out when his hand reached out to wipe them. That’s when I began to wail, like a baby.

“I didn’t… I’m sorry,” were the only words I could choke out to him as I felt the wave of pain and grief take over.

It’s funny how drastic my mood changes are; slowly taking the bits of sanity I have left.