What. The. Fuck.
I sat there, intrigued by what was in front of me; by what was mocking me; by what I have been warning myself of during this whole... thing. I stared at the laptop screen, trying to figure out what to do next. Whatever my brain was attempting to do to encode this shit into my head was clearly not working. Shock filled me up as I tried to make sense of it all. Denial came in next, telling me that I was taking things out of context.
I mentally scoffed at myself. Taking things out of context? Now I sound like him. His damn go-to argument for whenever I brought this shit up. Like waves fucking crashing into boulders with the utmost pressure- pieces of what they used to be engulfed by the waters-, I began to feel myself shatter. No, not again. Not now, not ever. He promised me. He fucking promised me.
Anger washed over me, leaving no trace of the aforementioned feelings. It was as clear as the damn daylight. Where he was, when he was there, who he was with, who he was, it was dreadfully clear. I couldn't believe myself. I couldn't believe I let him in. He saw me at my most vulnerable points. He knew that my weaknesses damn well outnumbered and outdid what good was left in me. I couldn't believe that I trusted him-even better, allowed myself to trust him.
An empty shell, I leaned back onto the couch and ahead. On the walls in front of me, two sets of built-in shelves were laid on each side of the wall-mounted flatscreen. Inhabiting them were the frames that stilled the selected memories of our past. Most of them captured virtually our "first" everything: first gifts, first date, first movie, first of many college visits, first year. Genuine feelings of security, care, cherish, happiness, love, completeness- they were what I saw every time I looked at these photos. Now, they were possibly nothing but lies.
A low thud and a soft click brought me out of my thoughts. The shuffling of feet got my attention. And there he was.
There he was standing near the kitchen bar, looking at me with that once adoring lopsided smile of his. Then again, it probably was probably never a smile. He probably smirked at me the whole damn time, thinking about how stupid I was for believing this charade of his. They always said that love would make you blind. Then, suddenly, his mouth moved. What he said, I had no idea. No sound, besides from my rapid heartbeats, registered. I looked at his face again and assumed he was waiting for an answer.
"Bella, did you hear what I said?" He looked at me. His face plastered with an amused gaze. He was waving his hand, trying to get my attention back to him. What I would give to smack that grin off of his face. What I would give to beat the living shit out of him right here, right now.
But I decided to ignore it. For now, anyway. Who knows when Bitchy Bella would decide to make a reappearance. So, until then, Soft Bella would remain. The Bella that he managed to bring out of me. The Bella who followed him everywhere like a damn dog. The Bella who stupidly believed every word that came out of his damn mouth. "Where were you those weekends?" I asked softly.
He stared at me, momentarily shocked. He then shook his head and gave out an amused chuckle. "Which weekends, love? Are you sure you're all right? You're making no sense."
Love? Did this fucker just call me "love"?! After what he did, he still had the nerve to refer me as something so personal and so enticing? He began to walk towards me. No way in hell is this disgusting bastard getting near me. I'd rather dive off of a cliff than let that happen. I jumped off the couch and took a couple steps back. He stopped, staring at me like I had three heads.
Anger was continuously washing over me. Trying my best to stay calm, I uttered, "Those weekends you cancelled on me during my school year. Where were you." My voiced shaked with venom and disgust on those last three words. If I could, I'd cleanse myself of him fifty billion times right now. That cliff diving is now looking very appealing. But I can't. Maybe later. But not until those words come out of his mouth.
His smirk dropped. His shoulders noticeably tensed. His eyebrows slightly raised, determining whether he heard the question correctly. His eyes desperately trying to seemingly find some sort of emotion, some sort of hint for relief, on my face. Finding none, he lets out a small, "What?"
Wrong answer.
"Did I stutter?" Bitch Bella was slowly creeping her way back to me. It's been too damn long since she last visited, and it was all of his fault. Hell is surely going to break loose if he doesn't cut to the chase soon.
Guilt immediately washed over his eyes. The once bright emerald gemstones had now turned into a dull forest green.
Caught, motherfucker.