My life, as I knew it, was over. I had finally done the thing I promised myself I wouldn't do. I hurt him and I knew it. He knew it. There was an awkward silence between us. One that would remain as such until either of us could form the right words. Words that didn't make things worse. I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. I wanted to say something to make all this disappear. To make what I said, vanish into thin air. But that wasn't possible. This isn't happening. This isn't real. But it's very much real. No matter how many times I tell myself.
He's walking away. He didn't say a word. He just, walks away. Why? Why is he doing this? Does he not care? I have to say something. As I see him walk back towards the door, I let out the only words that form in that blank mind of mine.
"Stop!"
Surprisingly, he does as I say and looks at me. Those deep green eyes staring at me as though he can see right through me. It surprises me and it stings. Like a thorn from a rose.
"Why are you leaving?"
I can see him thinking about his way to respond. The way his brow arches. The way his breathing goes from fast to steady like the beat of a drum. I'm scared and he stares at me, knowing damn well I am.
He begins to speak but before any words come out, his phone rings. The little song I chose for him last month was so annoying to him, but he kept it because he knew I enjoyed it. I had even made a little jingle for it. He answered it and I watched his mouth move as he spoke every word into the little speaker.
"I'll be right there. No problem."
He ends it. He stares at the phone but for a moment before moving his eyes to the carpeted floor. Look at me Ty. Look me in the face. Please. But he doesn't.
"I have to go the office," he says.
He walks towards the door. Still not even giving as much as a sideways glance. He opens the door, but stops before stepping out.
"I'll be home after 10. Don't wait up."
Then he disappears.
I stand in the empty hall. Listening to sounds around. The sound of his car starting then leaving, the sound of the clock, the sound of the light music playing in the bedroom, the sound of the neighborhood children running wildly in the streets. I run to the kitchen, past the stove, reaching for the drawer beside it. I scramble through looking for something, anything, with a sharp point. A knife. Perfect. I place the sharp object on my skin, pushing harder. Tensing up as I see blood slowly oozing out. What am I doing? This isn't right. Stop it Skylar. Stop. I take the blade and throw it across the room. Watching it land near the door. Slowly, I slide to the ground. Wiping the blood off. I pull my legs to my chest and cry. Cry to my heart's content. The tears stream down my face. I shudder as I hold myself tight. What have I done? What am I doing?
