Disclaimer: I do not own any of Stephenie Meyer's characters, books, or ideas.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of Taylor Swift's albums, songs, or ideas.
Thank you to my beta/ best friend, Jacobblackismineduh xD
The Way I Loved You
Prologue: Losses
Leah's POV:
"We can't be together anymore."
Sam looked at me. His eyes where shining, like he was about to cry. I looked around the room, astonished at what he had said. We had just been united again after he had been missing for two weeks. And now he wanted to break up with me?
His living room was shades of brown. The leather chairs and couches where perfect to just lay there and hold someone, which we often did. To the left of his living room was the kitchen and dining room. I had cooked for him while he watched me. In the early morning I made French Toast. Sometimes in the evening we ordered pizza. Down the hall was his bedroom, where we had made love.
He had called me this morning, asking me to come over and talk. Through the phone, I could hear the fake smile in his voice. Sam usually was genuine…why was this time different? When I walked in to see him, I hugged him and tried to kiss him, but he turned his head away and gave me a peck on the cheek.
He had been doing this for the past week or so, this pulling away. I would ask him to come over and he made some lame excuse. I would want to come over and cook, he said he wasn't hungry and that he had already eaten. What kind of crap is that? Big guys like that are always hungry. When I asked if I could come over anyway, he refused and said he had to do some extra stuff for work.
"Why…? Please don't pull the whole 'it's not you it's me' bullshit."
"Leah I love you-"
I cut him off. "If you love me why are you doing this to me? Am I getting too boring for you? Sam's getting a big ego now huh? Mr. 'I have a new herd of friends who wont stop following me around because I'm sooo tough?' Or maybe there is someone else?"
"Leah please don't. I'm so sorry."
I looked at him, trying to convey the most hurt, angry face I could.
I walked out the door and into the pouring rain.
The tension in the room was incredible. I hated it, hated this. I hated the priest standing there; talking about my dad's death like it was some sort of celebration. How could I survive without him?
I turned to the coffin and pictured him lying in there, cold, lifeless, and pale. I looked around, everyone in black. People crying. Good. They should cry. My dad deserved way better than a small group of people mourning for him. These people here better mourn for him. For us.
I looked out the window. All I saw was rain.