Where I Was Before You

50. trouble in paradise

My heart is racing so fast. I haven't moved, but it feels like my mind is running crazily around the room. I'm dizzy, and I can't move my head away from the slowly widening stain of milk on my carpet. I'm so confused. So confused. Freddie hated me 20 minutes ago, and in a second, in one single moment, something changed that changed everything. Why? Dammit god, lord, you aren't allowed to forgive me. You aren't allowed to let me off. I wasn't letting you off, I was never planning to let you off, that was the f*cking point, Freddie! God!

I bite my lip and close my eyes. Alright?! Is that good enough for you, you f*cking ASSHOLE? The words ring in my head. Oh god, did I really say that? Freddie! Stop! Stop right now! But no.. he was touching me.. he was- I don't f*cking know! I'm a b*tch! That's why! I'm not a b*tch, I wasn't meaning to- No! F*ck you Freddie!

F*ck you Freddie! You f*cking asshole!

Jesus Christ... I was a monster. Freddie... he forgave me. Or he was at least trying to.. Jesus Christ I f*cking don't know what to do with this man. At that moment, I can physically feel the dagger being taken out of my chest. It doesn't make sense, but I can breathe. I can breathe oh god I can breathe. I sit back on the ground and I finally gain control of my head, I move my neck around and my eyes bounce around the room. Oh lord, thank you. Thank you for giving me this beautiful man. This man who I hate so f*cking much, but managed to forgive me. He forgave me. I don't even know what I did but I'm so happy that I don't have to worry about it. He can leave now, go to Sydney, and I don't have to worry about this crushing feeling that lingers on me that I never realise is really there until it's gone. I can breathe. Oh, thank you, Freddie, you stupid f*cking self-centred evil man. I love you.

I catch myself saying that. I love you. No, please don't fall into this again. He was still the man who sexually assaulted you last night. He was still the man that slept naked in bed with you when you were passed out drunk. He was still the man that continued to yell at me and blame me for things that I didn't even know I did. He was still my murderer. But for some forever unknown reasoning, I don't blame him. I hate him, I hated him so much, but I loved him. I couldn't blame him, I didn't have the capacity in my heart or mind to be mad at him. I just had the thought, the thought that I knew I needed to despise him. But the feeling I had was something so different to that.

I stare up at the stairs, and my heart stutters with anticipation as I wait to hear his footsteps. God, I can't do that. I can't do this. I can't let him leave without me. How the hell did I ever think I could let him go without me? No. No, I was coming. I couldn't leave him alone. Freddie. My Freddie.

My Freddie.

I smile, and I lean my head against the couch. Freddie that could never love me. I didn't care. I was content with me loving him. I had enough love for both of us. Apart of that made me sad, but it was outweighed by the bliss.

I heard moving coming from upstairs, and my heart stops. I expect the light and blissful footsteps of my Freddie to come bouncing down the stairs, and to greet me with a smile. But I almost feel uneasy. The footsteps that bound down the stairs are fast, loud, heavy and emotional. I don't know how to explain it, but I suddenly felt like I needed to sit up. Like the floor suddenly wasn't habitable.

Freddie emerged from around the corner, and regardless of my gut feeling, I still smiled when I saw him. But he just stared at me. A stare like nothing I have ever seen come from him. It made my stomach churn. What was this? What had happened.

"Freddie, are you okay?" I ask him, softly, and carefully. He looks me up and down, and then peels his eyes away from me. Turning to the side and turning up his mouth in a look I can only describe as pure disgust. He manages to look back, and smiles, bitterly.