She'd relocated to Budapest to clear her head again. This was her fifth attempt of getting away from dreams and PASIVs and suits and ties, but it seems like everywhere she'd go, her past would just chase her and eat her up again. That's why the last time she moved, she didn't tell Arthur that she would go or where she would go, but she knew that it was only a matter of time before he found her again. She'd never needed him to follow her. She didn't need an addiction to chase her wherever she would go, so she would flee to avoid it. It was always Arthur's decision to keep chasing her around the globe, throwing her up in ecstasy only to throw her back to the ground, reality, again. Well, at least things took their turns for the best, she'd mutter to herself, but somewhere in her head, she buried the thought that she was lying to herself about which side she took.
Arthur would always come in a month or less after Ariadne moved. She'd already prepared a speech for that day, and she was sure that after she said it, Arthur wouldn't come back for her anymore. She'd trained herself not to cry when she thought of him, and the thought him was just associated to past and the pain of it, but not tears.
Day 29
She'd memorized her speech, and could say it with conviction. By this time, she would always breathe in deeply before answering the door whenever someone knocked, but every time she answered, the person at her doorstep wasn't who she wanted him or her to be. Still no sign of Arthur. That's good, she supposed.
Day 30
The speech she prepared was hammered into her head, and whenever she would drop something or would get startled, she would mutter the first two words of her concluding sentence. Her eyes would always drift to the door, and her mind would always slide in a picture of Arthur and her fighting on her doorstep whenever she would let herself daydream. So Arthur had decided to come the day after, she concluded.
Day 31
She stayed home for the day, convinced that Arthur was showing up at her doorstep. She had a glass filled with Bloody Mary beside her feet on the coffee table, and the TV remote in her hand. She settled for National Geographic, but really wasn't paying any attention to the television. She was practicing her speech again, still afraid that she would mess up, while throwing glances at the door every time she would finish reciting her speech.
She watched the day go by, and didn't notice that it was 3:30 am until she took an accidental glance at her watch. He would always come in time for dinner, she said to herself. She thought of a bunch of excuses for him not coming before it finally occurred to her that he wasn't coming because he didn't want to.
I should be happy, she thought. This was what I've been hoping for.
She convinced herself to smile, but made herself pour another glass of wine in the process. After finally finishing the whole bottle, she tucked her hair behind her ear, and put her head on the armrest of her couch. She uncharacteristically let a tear flow down the lining of her temple and closed her eyes.
I should be happy. She muttered to herself as she fell into quiet, dreamless sleep.
Author's Note: Uhm, I'm sorry if it sucks. I would appreciate critique on my writing, especially because I'm fresh meat here. Thank you for reading!