I said I didn't think of home, when you asked me back in that diner. Only later did I realize just how true that was. I didn't think of home because I thought home meant my room, my job and Richard. But I was so wrong. Home was right there with me, sitting just across the table.

I trusted you, I trusted you to catch me once I threw myself over the edge and forgot about everyone who's ever left me or given me false promises. And you did, you caught me. You made me feel enough. I've never been enough, not for my mother, not for Richard. But you made me believe I was for you.

I gave you all I had. I stopped running and I stopped hiding. I opened up to you. You knew how hard that was for me, to let you see me for who I really am. But I did it for you. I did it because I simply couldn't imagine not being myself when I'm with you. I could have pretended to be someone better than I really am. But the thought of you loving me for someone I'm not was unbearable. I needed you to love me, not the nervous girl forced behind a counter and not the girl who was planning to go to Europe with Richard. Therese needed you, not Terry.

I caught a glimpse of a whole new universe when we made love. It was a brave new world, with you and me and no fears and no need to hide. You made me feel safe and loved. You made me feel warm. And I believed it; I believed it could be, that you'd be there.
I knew you could never care about me as much as I cared about you, that simply wasn't possible. But that was all right. No one could love someone like me as much as someone like you. I put you on a pedestal but you pulled me up to you and suddenly it wasn't you and me, worlds apart. It was us and none of it mattered anymore, not the injunction, not Richard, not the way the world saw us.

The day before was one of the worst days of my life. You said it wasn't my fault, you said you chose to be with me. I tried to believe you but in that car, right after you'd learned about the tape, the thought of you wanting me seemed even more incomprehensible.
I was terrified that you'd leave, that there was no us anymore, that there couldn't be. I felt sick and I didn't know if it was because I was so afraid of being alone again or because I knew I was used as evidence to prove what a morally despicable person you are in the eyes of society.
But then you called out to me, you reached out and let me be close to you again. It was like finally being able to breath, after what felt like months of being held underwater. I was there, lying in bed, right next to you, still chocked by guilt but eternally grateful to be in your arms. You held me tight and I felt safe again, just like that. You made me believe that you chose me, that you'd choose me even though you knew what that would cost you.

And then you left. You ripped it all apart; you'd lifted me up just to push me back down again. You'd let me reveal myself, you'd let me believe I could be loved. You'd shown me a secret and then I had to go back to my own life, pretending that the secret never existed.

Can you even imagine what it was like? I'd let my guard down, I'd taken my armor off and left it in Waterloo because you made me believe I could. I was defenseless. And then you cut me. Deep. Again and again, and you're still doing it, every time I think of you. Do you know how hard it is, learning to shield yourself once more, after you'd experienced what it's like to let yourself go in front of someone? You can cover up your wounds, you can build your armor back on, piece by piece. But if you make one wrong move, the metal scrapes against the scars and they always open up again.

You'd said a match, given the right conditions, could burn a house down. You had your right conditions and you didn't just have a match, you had thousands of them. And you used your fire to burn my whole new-found universe down.
But the rage didn't last long. Soon it started shriveling; the flames started dying as if they had been poisoned until there was nothing but a feeble flicker. Nothing but a painful reminder that showed just how deep the darkness surrounding it is. And all I had left were ashen stumps of memories and shattered fragments of trust that still cut when I try to sweep them up.

I was sickeningly empty.

And I understood. I understood you had to leave. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy. And if that meant that I could never see you again, it would have been worth it. If us never meeting again would have meant that you could be with Rindy, I would have accepted it. It would have hurt, more than you could ever imagine, but I loved you so much I would have endured anything for you. Anything.

But you didn't trust me to understand you, your way of life. So you left without a word. And you sent Abby to do what you couldn't. Abby, for god's sake.

And here you are now, sitting in front of me, a faint image of the beautiful raging courage you used to be. And you're asking me if I hate you. What a silly question. How could I ever hate you? How could one ever hate the Sun, the light and warmth it radiates? No, I could never hate you. But I learned to live without your light and learned how to cover myself when the warmth is gone.

You're trying to hide how nervous you are but the despair in your eyes can't lie. Nothing is the way it used to be, the roles have been reversed. I grew up. You forced me to. I make my own decisions now. I learned to say no and I'm finally able to see what I really want. And it's all thanks to you. But I wish, oh god, I wish I could've grown with you. I wish it wasn't the cold and the crushing taste of bile in my throat that pushed me to abandon my old life. It should have been your love. You should have been there.

No. No, I won't move in with you. See, it's easy as that. I've gotten quite good at pushing things away. No, I wouldn't go with you, I wouldn't live with you.

I wouldn't return your gloves. I wouldn't send you a postcard. Not again. Never again.

My jaw tightens. I cut the very last string that still attached me to you. I didn't even know it still existed but now it's gone and it's time for us to be gone too.

Isn't this funny? I know what I want, clearer than ever. It used to be the other way around, I used to say yes to everything and I never knew if I actually meant to say yes. But now I know what I want.
I want that string. I want the way you look at me like you see something I've never seen in myself. I want your laughter and the sparkle in your eyes. Your gentle touch, the smell of your perfume, the way your lipstick leaves marks on my thighs. And I want your bad days too. Your fights, your divorce, the stonewall you build around yourself when you feel threatened. I want all of you.

And yet I still say no to you.

See how bitterly strong you made me. Every fiber in my body is telling me to say yes. Yes I would.

But I won't. God, I wish I did, I wish I could look at you the way you're looking at me. I used to, once, a long time ago. But I can't make that mistake again. I can't wake up to a room I thought was full of you just to find it agonizingly void and dark. I can't do it again.

Now you say you love me and I feel my insides twist. It's all I ever wanted to hear, all I ever wanted to know. But not now and not like this. You should have said it months ago. You should have said it that morning when I woke up to an empty bed. You should have stayed and told me then.

I can't trust you anymore, but I still see that you're honest. Your eyes are begging for understanding and acceptance. You've played all your cards; this was your last cry. There's nothing more to say.

It's time for me to get up and turn around. It's time for you to leave. I can't stay here any longer. You remind me of what I could have had and I don't need those memories. I need to leave before it gets too much. It's too much already.
And yet I'm still here, not moving, searching your face. I feel like I'm being torn apart. My mind's urging me to leave, warning me not to make the same mistake again. But I can't stand up. I can't leave.

There's only one thing I want to say and that's the one thing I shouldn't. It would make the last four months even more painful. It would be like handing the knife over to your torturer.

That's when I hear his voice. I turn around, relieved that I had the strength to hold out. Now it's all going to be all right. Jack's here and no matter how much I loathe him for interrupting, I'm thankful he stopped me from exposing myself again.

You get up, your face almost composed, no sign of the raw, trembling emotions you just showed me. I admire how quickly you can change roles. You're always what people want you to be. They don't notice the difference because they hadn't taken the time to learn who you are.
But I know you. You put on your mask and when you'll step out that door you'll appear serene, as if nothing could touch you. You'll have dinner with your friends and you'll make small talk and you'll even smile. But when you get home, you'll lock your door and you won't switch the lights on. And then the outside will be just like the inside.

When I feel your light touch on my shoulder, I look at your hand, recognizing the lines my fingers had traced so many times. I close my eyes and I breathe what I've been longing to say ever since I first saw you.

I love you.

It's too soft for anyone to hear it. And I hear your steps fade behind me.