lovelorn [h.s.]

f o r t y e i g h t

SCARLETT

I stare back at my own vacant expression reflected in the mirror, my brown eyes cold and glassy from the tears I've been crying all morning. I don't think I've ever cried so much before.

Each time I think I've calmed myself down, my breaths grow ragged and my throat becomes so tight I can barely breathe, and I find myself breaking down all over again. But it's not even tears for myself. It's not tears for the unbearable pain burning through my own veins; it's tears for Harry. Tears for him, because I know this is going to hurt him more than anything else on this earth, even though the reason I'm doing it is to make sure he doesn't get hurt. Irony really is a cruel fucking bitch.

Before TJ left last night I convinced him to let me go speak to Harry in the morning, instead of going to break up with him right then and there which is what TJ wanted. He eventually agreed, but not without threatening me once again by saying it better be done by the time he calls me in the afternoon, otherwise they'll be serious consequences. Usually I would've just scoffed at that threat, but TJ very clearly demonstrated the lengths he's willing to go to get what he wants, and I just can't let Harry get caught up in the crossfire. No matter how much I selfishly still want to be with him and how happy he makes me, I absolutely refuse to put my happiness above his safety. I refuse to let him get hurt because of my own stupid mistakes.

As I glance up at the mirror again, I sigh at the dark bags forming under my eyes, evidence of the restless sleep I endured. The whole night was spent tossing and turning, desperately trying to shut off my thoughts and push away the feelings of anxiety weighing down on my chest. After a couple of hours, I eventually came to terms with the fact that I had to do this, but then my worries turned into thinking about how I would actually do it.

How am I supposed to lie to his face when he can see through me in a way that no one else can? When he knows what I'm planning before I even do, when he can tell what I'm thinking without me having to say a word? How am I supposed to do this when he knows me better than I know myself?

There's only one exception, one way that it might work, and it just happens to be the cruellest way, the way that would hurt him the most. I need to play on his insecurities, the doubts that I know he's always held during our friendship, and continues to have now we've moved into a relationship. I know he tries to hide it, and I've tried to convince him otherwise, but he still believes that I don't care as much, that I don't value our friendship or our relationship as much as he does. I suppose it may have been true in the past, and even though it's definitely not true anymore, I can tell that deep down, he still has those doubts. So that's exactly what I'll have to use to convince him.

I have to tell him that it's not enough, that we're not enough. I have to tell him that he's not good enough for me. It will break him, it will completely destroy him, but it's the only way to keep him safe.

Pulling the applicator out of the concealer tube, my eyes flicker back up to the mirror just in time to witness more tears gathering in my already bloodshot eyes. I furiously blink them back and somehow regain the normal pace of my breathing, trying to stop my shaky hands as I apply concealer under my eyes in an attempt to disguise the red puffiness. By the time I'm applying mascara to my lashes, I've somehow mastered the cold, emotionless expression that TJ so expertly demonstrated when he was stood in my hallway last night. I just need to stop crying, stop caring, stop thinking, stop feeling.