I'm coming out of my cage.
Not. Ever. Coming. Out. Again. He hates it, wants to kill the feeling, but she's done it for him.
I've been doing just fine.
What a load of bull. He'll never be fine. Ever.
Gotta gotta be down because I want it all.
Sure, he wanted it. But he could never bring himself to have it. She was everything he ever wanted, and she was everything he never deserved.
It started out with a kiss.
He wasn't ready! Why did she do that! Of course, he never would have, but her looking him in the eye, kissing him, then saying "Not good enough." was about to kill him.
How did it end up like this?
He knew exactly how. He pushed her away when he wanted to hold her close. That was why she had abandoned him.
It was only a kiss, IT WAS ONLY A KISS!
What a fool he was. A kiss? No. His chance at her. At a new life. At a LOVED life.
Now I'm falling asleep.
Never again would he sleep. Even now, with the covers up to his chin, knowing where she was, what she was doing, sleep would not come.
And she's calling a cab.
Yet another date with yet another doctor from yet another mundane area of expertise. Why did she use them? He knew she didn't want them. But he knew she needed them. So many of them to fill the hole he left. A hole too big for any one man except him to fill.
While he's having a smoke and she's taking a drag.
She never used to smoke. Why was she smoking now? Stress? Anger? Whatever it was, she always went outside for a smoke when she was around him too long. And that hurt too.
Now they're going to bed.
His eyes squeezed shut at the thought. How could she? Why would she? So many unanswered questions, but so much pain.
And my stomach is sick.
He hobbled for the bathroom, only barely making it before the dry heaves wracked his body. He hugged the cold bowl, if for no other reason than to feel its stability in his unstable world.
And it's all in my head.
He felt silly. He knew she was out, but what was she doing? Certainly she didn't sleep with them all? But what else would she want from them?
But she's touching his chest now.
"Oh, please!" he thought, "Make it go away. Don't let me see her like this!" He leaned over the bowl once more.
He takes off her dress now.
He shuddered. She should be his. Another man shouldn't have the privilege of her dress on his floor. That was his right. These men didn't know they were being used.
Let me go.
He wanted to be free of her, but she couldn't forget him any more than he could forget her. That much was true in their world.
And I just can't look, it's killing me.
All he wanted now were the images to go away. They were real though, as real as the cold tile stinging his bare legs. He couldn't help but wallow in the shame of it all.
And taking control.
He couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep, at work he could barely concentrate. She was taking over every aspect of his life, whether she meant to or not.
Jealousy, turning saints into the sea.
Jealous. He thought about it. Was he jealous? No. Yes. He wasn't sure. It hurt so much, and that was the only thing on his mind. If jealousy was wanting to be the man she held in her arms tonight, then he was jealous.
Swimming through sick lullabies.
No matter what he did, her conquests haunted him, creating a hole in his soul bigger than the one he left in hers. They were leaving each other more damaged than they ever were before.
Choking on your alibis.
She would never tell him to his face she was seeing others. He knew he had no claim on her, but he also knew she still felt as if she were cheating. The feeling was definitely mutual.
But it's just the price I pay.
He knew he should never fall for someone again. Not after the first time. He should have known she would betray his trust. Now he was paying the price for his foolishness.
Destiny is calling me.
What was that he heard? Was it a knock on his door? It couldn't be. No one came to him. Ever. Except her. Only her.
Open up my eager eyes.
He lifted his head from the toilet seat, opening his eyes and hearing the rapping again. Slowly he made his way to the door.
'Cause I'm Mister Brightside.
He opened the door to the pouring rain, and there she stood. The object of his misery. The reason he lived and the same reason he wished to die. She looked up at him and he saw her mascara running down her face. Between them, only two words needed to be said before he enveloped her in his arms.
"Greg."
"Allison."