This is the last chapter, enjoy!
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"I'm sorry for your horrible childhood."
Her words slap me in the face.
"I'm sorry you have such a miserable, worthless father and I'm sorry for the terrible decisions you've made. I'm sorry that you feel trapped by them, that you think of yourself as a monster that can't be changed. But most of all,"
Stabs me in my chest,
"most of all, I'm sorry you have no mercy for yourself!"
She twists it.
"You pity me." I say it like a fact, not an accusation. "You think I'm some kind of broken project you can repair."
"No—I didn't—" She tries to take her words back as if she can undo what has already been done.
"You think you can say whatever you want to me and it not have any consequences. You know my feelings for you and you consistently take advantage of them!" I hiss. "Contrary to popular belief, I am not some kind of robot, Juliette!" I'm coming apart at the seams.
"I k-know—"
"No, you don't! You have no idea what I've done!" My eyes start to sting. "You have no idea what I've seen, what I've had to be a part of. You have no idea what I'm capable of or how much mercy I deserve. I know my own heart," my words fall heavy with venom. " I know who I am, Don't you dare pity me!"
I think I'm going to throw up, I think I'm going to die. She has delicately hoisted her soft hands into my ribcage, and ripped out what is left of my heart. I want to disappear. I want to disappear and have this moment over. I want to be anywhere but here, I can't be here. My lungs have vanished with my sanity.
"I thought you could love me for me, I thought you would be the one person in this godforsaken world who would accept me as I am! I thought you, of all people, would understand." My face is two-inches away from hers as I say, "I was wrong. I was so horribly, horribly wrong."
A million years pass between us and she seems to have lost the ability to speak. She is the one with my heart seeping through the space between her fingers, and yet she expects me to be the one carrying the conversation.
I turn away, grabbing my shirt from the explosion of blankets and pillows beneath it. The center of my soul stings reminding me of the memories from just a few minutes ago. My father was right, he always was. People are just obstacles that try to distract you of your goals. They catch you at your most vulnerable, and like a fish in a pond, reel you up and suffocate you with promises and worst of all, hope.
I feel a tug on my arm, "Please—that's not what I meant—"
I turn towards her, "I do not want your sympathy!
"I wasn't trying to hurt you—"
"Isn't that the most horrible part of it, though?" I scoff. "That you didn't try to hurt me? That you didn't consider my feelings, yet reached for the parts of my life you knew would sting me the most?" I make no effort to conceal the look of hurt in my eyes.
"You can call me horrible, a monster, a liar even. I've heard it all before." Words begin to trickle through my mind like little whispers of the truth. "But what you did—what you've done—is more cruel than any torture I have endured in my entire life."
"The truth," I finish, "is a painful reminder of why I prefer to live among the lies."
I almost want to take her by the shoulders then, shake her and tell her that she is wrong about everything. That Kent only loves the good parts of her, that he will never understand what it is for people like us. I want to tell her that I see her light and her dark, and that unlike him, I accept all of it.
I almost do, but I don't.
I breathe in, and the next words I say feel like acid in my mouth.
"Good-bye, Juliette."
I turn to reach for the doorknob, not expecting her to say anything more when she says, "I won't see you again." I pause, momentarily confused by her words. Not quite a question, not quite a statement. I fight the urge to look back at her face and fail. The look in her eyes strikes me like poison in my bloodstream, the hate and disgust she feels towards me is too much.
The next words come out almost as if I have entered auto-pilot mode, and I am just as shocked as her when I say,
"I certainly hope not." And stalk out the door.
Just like that, I am gone. Gone from herself and gone from me.
Is this what death feels like?
No, I think. Dying would be far less painful.
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And that's it! This is the longest I have ever put my time towards a story, so I hope you all enjoyed reading it. I read every single one of your reviews and hop up and down fangirling over them every time I see a new one pop up. It's crazy to me that even one person has taken the time out of their own day to read what I have written, so thank you. It sincerely means more than you know.
