I spend the next several days locked in my own solitude, leaving only to buy groceries then returning home. I’ve mindlessly sat through so many hours of daytime TV and horrible romantic movies that make me want to throw books at the screen. Sarah should be back soon, and I don’t want her to see what I’ve become; some slobbish, tear-stained, mess of a girl who’s been living in a sea of junk food, chocolate wrappers, and screwed up tissues.

Classy look, Emma; really holding yourself together, aren’t you?

After a much-needed pep talk and a long agonizing look in the mirror I am finally so sick of my depressive mood and disgusting behavior. I force myself to get up and stop moping around like a broken-hearted zombie, doing anything to stop mulling it over in my brain.

I busy myself with cleaning the apartment, wiping away hours of lying around sobbing into tissues eating carbs; the endless sea of clothes on my floor I can’t bear to look at, all tied viciously to memories of him. I need to get myself together and show Sarah I can be who I used to be. I can pretend at being in control for her sake, by looking as I should, and having our home as neatly kept as we usually do. I won’t inflict this person I’ve become on her when she gets back. I’m ashamed of who she is.

I have texts from him and emails, all unopened, the bunches of flowers and expensive gifts sent to my door all turned away. Jake’s trying so hard to reach through my wall of silence and contact me but as I told him on every returned gift card:

Leave me be, give me time. X

Every time the bell goes, the pain of being betrayed rears its ugly head, with each bunch of gorgeous flowers more extravagant than the last, chocolates, jewelry, and even a stuffed bear holding a broken heart. Each one causing a flood of tears and a ravaged heart. It’s been hell trying to tell the couriers to take them back, that I don’t want any of them. Inflicting my sobbing, manic, blubbering, messed-up self on any delivery guy brave enough to try to give me any of Jake’s gestures, flapping my hands to motion them out of my sight. It’s all too much to bear and now I’ve muted the intercom, so drivers assume no one is home.

I can’t fault him for trying to reach me, not a day has passed that he hasn’t tried, but I’m not ready to face this or him just yet. My head is a mess; my body is a mess; my emotions are a mess. I feel like I’ve been cut loose and left adrift. I can’t focus on a single thing. I’ve never experienced this kind of torment. I thought being sent away by Jake, to his dad’s company, was the worst pain I would ever endure in my life, but this tops that. This is excruciating.

At night, I barely sleep and reach for him when I do. I dream of him and each dream gives way to my old night terrors, waking me up in panic, causing me to dive toward my headboard. I pull my covers to my chest trying to fight off the shadows coming at me as I drag myself out of my mind, desperate to fully wake up. Those nights are the worst, drenched in sweat and fear, gasping in panic as I slap at the shadows around me. I wake up, often hoping that it’s all been a dream and that I’m in his apartment again. Held captive by his limbs, and he’s right there beside me to make me feel safe, but every time, my body gives way to sobbing when I realize where I am.

I’ve cried so much I’m not sure how my body still has any fluids left but it seems I have a never-ending supply reserved just for him, exhaustion is the only thing which helps numb the pain; my head is foggy with fatigue constantly.

* * *

come in. I finally caved a few hours ago, in a phone call while she got ready to travel home and told her why I was

me tight and I relax into her embrace, holding myself together, telling

envelope me most of the time, making me able to cope with menial tasks and mindless routines in

scurrying away with cases to her room, a typical man avoiding female tears, a real charmer. Jake would have brushed them away for me and asked me to tell him all about it. He would’ve wiped the floor with the likes of Marcus and his evasive behavior to female tears. I push down the thought and

myself this way. Stop thinking about him.

She gazes at me with an intense frown. “He made a mistake, Emma … He’s human.” Her revelation takes me by surprise; makes me stop what

I remember.” I point out in surprise, a look of complete disbelief etched on

and think about everything, Ems … Jake really loves you. I don’t think this is something

in the past and here he is again. She’s just another version of my mother, letting a

confused.” I admit, glancing down between us at the way she’s holding both of my hands tightly, a sudden urge to haul her into my arms and cry. I don’t miss the old me who

deny the Jake of old

off as nothing?!” I snap, yanking my hands away, of all people I expected Sarah to be on my

But not this!

young and pleading. I don’t want this version of Sarah. I want her jokes on what she would do to maim him

kiss … It’s who he kissed!” I stamp, pulling myself away heading to the couch and slumping down. Trying hard to simmer the wave or irritation growing in my belly. “It was her … Marissa. The one person I hate more than anyone and the one person that can truly kill everything between us.” the tears sting my eyes at the mention of that bitch’s name, and I bite them back defiantly. Not while her name is on my

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