The Girl In The Mansion.

Chapter thirteen~

Chapter by: xlovemusicalsx

(y/n)'s POV

That night I was up at 3am thinking. Hoping. Wishing. Other words that sound inspirational and are about thoughts and stuff.

I didn't know what to do with myself without Heather by my side. When you're in love with someone for years, it's really hard to let go. She strung my along, probably cheating countless times before she blatantly admitted it. She never even loved me.

My thoughts weren't typically this dark. Normally I focused on my love for musical theatre, college, and the best holiday ever. But now there was a pain in my chest and I just wanted to sleep through the whole next century. When I'd wake up, Heather would be dead and I could mourn and move on.

I'm not saying it would make things easier if Heather died, but it would definitely make things easier if Heather died. I'd have an excuse to sit around and cry and miss her, even if she was a jerk.

I'd never fully internalized that she was a jerk until tonight. Yeah, she slept with someone else, but plenty of people cheat. But no, it wasn't fine. I wanted to not love Heather. Why couldn't I just not love her? That would be fabulous, just easily getting over her.

But all I could feel were the ghostly touches she gave me. An arm around my shoulder, warm lips on my cheek and my own lips, her hand entwined with mine. We were always perfect together, that's what I figured.

I shook my head and sat up. I needed some water, and to walk these stupid thoughts off. Being in love was so hard.

I believed in soulmates. I believed that one person would be your perfect match, and you can always just work it out. But why wouldn't my soulmate show up already? I was 23 for fuck's sake, and I was not getting any younger. Next spring I would graduate college even after my gap year, but Heather wouldn't be there to cheer me on like I always pictured graduation.

Hell, she had said she wanted to marry me after graduation, but that was worth one night with someone after getting drunk off her ass.

I knew it was best that I left, but it haunted me. What if I was the toxic, manipulative one? What if she just made a mistake and I was playing the victim and throwing this all out of proportion?

I knew it wasn't true, but I still had my doubts. My head couldn't give me a rest. Ever. My brain just never ever shut up.

Could you please shut the fuck up, brain? I'm trying to get some 3:30-in-the-morning water, thank you.

Life really just kinda sucks sometimes, huh?

(465 words)