Loving Lakyn | ✓

[58] Hard Nights

L O V I N G
L A K Y N

I WIPED MY tears away for the millionth time tonight, all previous effects received from that intoxicating bottle of vodka were completely gone, leaving me with an uneasy stomach, a messy mind, and an excruciatingly painful feeling in my chest.

I had been through much in such a short amount of time. Every year since birth led up to my mother dying, and as unfortunate as it sounds, I am glad that I do not have to walk on eggshells constantly anymore. After her death, I fell into the arms of someone whom I loved deeply without knowing, and I knew that what I was starting would have to end eventually, but like all my actions thus far, I was selfish.

I knew the minute I saw him on top of that girl with the awful blue hair at the party, that I felt something toward him. I admit, the vast percentage of what I was feeling at that moment was jealousy, but I knew that I was better than her. And that is just the problem. Back then, despite being in such a low time in my life—though, it was just the calm before the storm—I knew my worth. I knew that even though I was suffering from an intense eating disorder, battling depression, I knew at the end of the day, that even though I was drowning in my own mental illnesses, I was worth something.

And ever since that night, I fought against falling for him because I knew that the day would come where one of us would hurt each other. I just never knew it would be both, but at least it was fair, I suppose.

My point is, ever since I did let myself love him truly, I have placed everything on him. All of my confidence, my happiness, depends on him. He just. . .god, he loved me so well, so deeply. So much that I did not care if all my weight was placed on him.

I am aware that he did not mean to hurt me, but I spent so much time allowing him to tell me what I can and cannot say to men, what I can wear without being stared at. It is two-thousand and twenty, for goodness sake, it is time that toxicity and misogynistic acts stop being romanticized. As a feminist, all I want is to be treated as an equal. I do not tell Lakyn to change nor do I storm over to him and claim my territory when he interacts with the opposing gender, yet he does not give me those rights.

I have tried to establish my feelings in a conversation, but he simply does not get it. And though it is an incredibly painful thing to do, leaving him is the best way that I can show him how I feel. Sometimes silence speaks more volumes than audible words ever could.

As I walked up the all too familiar driveway, I resisted the urge to just call him and beg him to take me back, though I am sure that no begging would be necessary, which is even more reason for me to do this. He needs to be okay without me. He needs to learn, to grow. To be the best version of himself. 

I raised a fist, closing my eyes momentarily as I inhaled a deep breath, then my knuckles collided with the door.

I stepped back, suitcase lever in hand as I began to panic. Coming back here is the opposite of growth. In fact, coming back here is like taking a sharp turn and going straight back to the root of all my problems, but I had nowhere else to go. I was all alone.

The door flew open and I was met with Elaine's shocked expression. "Miss Hayes?" she replied, her tone stunned.

I offered her the faintest smile, sniffling. "Elaine." I nodded, giving her the respect that she deserves for once. "Is my father here?"

Elaine's mouth opened, but she did not get the time to respond as my father came into view, wearing his usual neat suit, his tie loosened around his collar. When he noticed me standing in the doorway, his expression turned cold. Stoic. He was probably unsure of what approach to take. I barely knew what approach to take, it is the biggest punch in the gut returning here, I am too stubborn for my own good and too self-righteous along with that.