"Baby, I'm so sorry."
We're entering the last fase. The last scene. It always ends like this. I shouldn't be surprised anymore. But somehow I still am. I still think that it might end differently sometimes. That it could end on a different note. Sometimes I even think it might begin differently. Or not begin at all. I naively keep hoping so, anyway.
But it doesn't change. Not even in the slightest. It scarily repeats itself to the exact same detail time after time. And I take it all in. Not taking any action. Any responsibility. I just endure. I just accept. It's easier this way.
"Will you forgive me?"
The similarity continues. Am I the only one in here who takes notice of it? Or is it just that obvious? Am I that obvious? The question is always asked. The answer is always the same. It doesn't change. I don't change it. I'm too weak to adjust it. And I've become pathetically predictable. I deserve everything that comes my way. I bring it upon me myself.
"Please forgive me. I need you. Forgive me?"
It almost sounds believable. Almost. I'm not the only predictable one in this relationship. I'm the only pathetic one though. I'm eerily silent as I keep gazing at the mirror. There aren't any tears this time. No silent sobs or saddened features. Just blank and vacant eyes staring. I guess it's the only change I can make.
"Baby?"
He's nervous, I can feel it. He's wondering why I'm taking so long to answer him. Why I'm staring pokerfaced into the mirror. What I'm contemplating about. Or whether I've finally grown a spine and leave him once and for good. If you're wondering too, I didn't. I'm just thinking how I'll cover up the remnants of the fight this time. How I'll cover these bruises. Inwardly and outwardly. What excuses I'll have to come up with this time. Black eyes are the worst.
"Okay."
It's short and detached. But it's enough. It seals the deal for him. I feel him heaving a relieved sigh, before kissing me quickly on top of my head. I don't respond. Through his reflection in the mirror I see him grabbing his cell from the side table. I feel sorry for the evening plans he's about to cancel once more. I was really looking forward to them.
"Hi! Hey, how are you? Good, good. Hey, I just wanted to say that we aren't going to make it tonight. Yeah, I know it sucks. Spencer had a little accident, so we're just gonna stay in. No, no it's okay you don't have to come. It's nothing bad, you know how clumsy Spencer is."
A derogative laugh follows that little comment. Clumsy Spencer. Apparently clumsiness is in my nature. Perfect explanation you can use for multiple excuses. You must think I'm a coward. A disgrace to independent women worldwide. A perfect example of the pathetic woman who keeps returning to the person who beats her up relentlessly, time after time. There's a catch, though. The only person I feel safe enough to indulge this dark secret of mine to. The only person who I want to talk about it and ask help from. The only person I trust with the whole of my heart.
"Okay, I will. Spencer says she's sorry again. See you around, Ash."
Is his childhood best friend.
*******