I love the night.

Most people hate it because they think it's scary. It holds, and covers secrets, doubts and worries.

That's why I love it.

A normal person hides from the dark, basking in the light, soaking up the goodness.

I hide from the light, and hide in the security of the dark. I know that no one would look for me here. They won't find all my faults; insecurities; Secrets.

It's my safe haven. No one will strip away my- -shredding but still barely intact- self-confidence. If I hide here, don't reveal anything, maybe he will love me.

Maybe he will change his mind and come back. He might come around. Tell me he loves me for once. I hope for nothing though. I must keep my hopes down to a minimum or nothing.

Expect nothing from him.

When he smirks at me, I will soak it in; because that's the most I will get for me.

It doesn't seem fair.

He gets what he wants from me, and all I get is a smirk. A half smile. A good job done. A little pat on the back; because he's satisfied. Leaving me cold inside, and pretending on the outside.

Not that he doesn't know.

He does.

Everything he does affects me, and he knows it.

Him sleeping with another girl? It rips my heart to shreds.

He comes back like nothing happened. Like my world isn't crashing in on me. If he's in a bad mood, he lets me wallow in self-pity, not even acknowledging my presence.

If he is in a good mood he makes me forget about it. Comes up to me, kisses my neck, and murmurs that I am his, and nothing can change that. Leads me upstairs and makes me forget it fully.

When that happens, I like to pretend.

Pretend that every stroke is from a lover. Every kiss is from a man that is mine.

That I am his one and only. It gets harder as time goes by. I know that I'm lying to everyone, including myself.

That's the worse. Lying to yourself hurts so much more because it impossible to fully trick yourself. I don't mind lying to his brother and his girlfriend.

I lie through my teeth to them. It doesn't hurt as much as knowing the truth. They don't believe me of course. When they walk out, I can hear barely hear them, but I can see them shake their heads at me. Looking at me with pity.

I hate them for that. Why do they get to have what I want?

Why am I so unlucky? Why did I have to fall for the one I knew wouldn't love me back? I want to know why every time I try to get up, I crash down. Ending up lower than I was before. I take a step forward and get knocked back 7.

I look down at him. He is a whole different person when he sleeps. His face is in a peaceful setting and there is no conflict showing. He looks happy in this dream like state. I ponder about what he could be dreaming about.

I don't dare to try to probe his mind because he would feel my presence and wake up, but I'm content just like this, so all I have is guesses.

I have a very good guess though. It hurts to think that, but it's true. He's probably thinking of her again. He turns around, he was now facing me. His face displays true joy.

Terror floods through my veins .There was only two reasons he would be like this. He might have not been asleep and has been listening to me this whole time. It doesn't look like it though. He looks like he's asleep. But I've been wrong before.

I take a chance and trust that he is asleep.

The other reason he would be like that is if he was thinking about her. My stomach churns. I feel queasy all of sudden. Choking down the bile that seems like it was forcing itself up my throat; I wrap myself up in the enormous comforter.

I look at him for the last time. I turn on my side to face away from him. Cringing into the blankets as he moved around again, in his sleep, and wrapped his arms around my waist.

I tensed but as his arms tightened around me, I relax. I felt safe in his embrace even though he wasn't conscious at the moment. When I think about it I have always felt safe in his arms.
He sighs, and shifts. He pulls me on him. I am now on his chest, his head resting on mine. He sighs and mumbles something.

I freeze, hoping I didn't hear that. He mumbles it again and my heart plummets to the bottom of my soles.

I feel like weeping. My brain is malfunctioning, and I know it is, because I can't control what I do next. My grief has taken over me; something is directing me out of his arms and to the dresser.

I pack my clothes in a pile in my backpack, and then suddenly I get my senses back. I'm frozen waiting for him to get up and stop me. He doesn't. I don't think he even knows I'm gone.

I hold back a sob then dress. Shirt first, then jeans. Then, I sling my bag over my shoulder. I walk to his door and open it with the intention of not looking back.

I give in.

Instead of the position I left him in, he was sitting up, his face impassive. He didn't seem in the least concerned that I was leaving.

My heart clenched and I turned to leave. But I couldn't...not yet at least. Looking back on that moment , I've never seen him look so confused .

I says only one thing.

"Goodbye, Damon."