2 and ½ weeks
What did I do wrong?
Summary: As opposed to 9 and ½ weeks lol! Sandy, Kirsten, Berkeley, fight, break-up, something's wrong.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Well the story is…not the characters.
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Here I am again. Deep Kirsten angst up ahead!
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What did I do wrong Kirsten? Please tell me. Are you okay? I mean, you're obviously not okay but what's wrong? What did I do wrong Kirsten? Call me when you get this. Thanks. It's me, by the way, Sandy, obviously!
That was the first of the four messages left on her phone by the time she got back t her room. She smiled through her tears. It was just like Sandy to forget to say who it was at the start of a message. And as if she needed him to tell her. He hadn't done anything wrong. It was her. She had.
I don't know what's going on Kirsten but I'm sorry, please can't we talk? I promise I'll let you get a word in edgeways, really I will. I really need to hear your voice, I need you to tell me this time. Tell me what's going on…
How could she even start? There was no way. She pressed erase and waited for the next message.
Hey Kirsten, I'm sure you're home by now, pick up, please. Please? Please?
No. She couldn't. She just couldn't do it.
You can't do this. You can't just blank me it isn't fair. If you want me out of your life I understand, well I don't, because I don't know what I've done but I can't say I didn't see it coming. But at least have the decency to say it to my face, to let me know what went wrong or admit that you were using me. I don't think you were, I thought we meant something to each other because...I know we haven't known each other for very long but…you mean a lot to me and I hate to see you like thi-
The machine had cut his ramble off at that point. She wished she dared call him. She wished she could explain, but she couldn't. She hated that he thought she didn't care, that he didn't mean anything to her. He did. He meant too much.
Thankfully her roommate was out, she didn't know or care where, and she could curl up in bed, the tears that had been threatening for hours finally allowed to fall.
And how they fell. Kirsten didn't know you could physically cry yourself sick, cry until you could barely see, cry until you literally fell asleep exhausted.
It was the only way she could sleep.
She'd learnt now that you could cry for hours, cry and cry until you thought you were empty, head throbbing, eyes swollen, and fall asleep only to wake up with more tears to shed. It was endless.
She knew now that you could cry in your sleep. Sleep wasn't a respite, just a continuance of the nightmare.
She hadn't reckoned with the pain.
Not physical, emotional. And that was a thousand times worse.
The fact she had been awake, anesthetised but not asleep.
The dirty, disgusted feeling
The guilt
The sleepless nights
The tears
The way that Sandy's voice on her answer phone made her want to cry, or retch, or both.
Sometimes she wished she could see him, missed the way he made everything feel better.
But he couldn't change this.
He couldn't know.
She missed everything about him.
She'd known him just over
eight weeks yet she missed him so completely.
The way his voice sounded when he said her name, his hugs, his bright blue eyes beneath those monstrous brows. His stupid jokes, his sheepish smiles, his kisses.
After that she stopped taking his calls on her private lines. He was left to call her dorm house. The Resident Advisor who took the messages probably thought he was a stalker. Each day her roommate collected the piles of little yellow post-its.
Kirsten, it's Sandy, call me.
Kirsten, please call me. Sandy
Kirsten, this isn't it. Sandy
And then when he hadn't left actual messages.
Sandy Cohen called for Kirsten Nichol
Sandy Cohen called for Kirsten Nichol
Sandy Cohen called for Kirsten Nichol.
Each with a different date and time neatly filled into the forms by the R.A.
She couldn't call him, not now.
Even if this wasn't it. Even if it wasn't over.
Because it was.
It had to be.
He couldn't know but how could she carry on without him knowing?
She couldn't. The guilt would kill her.
Guilt
Regret
What was the difference?
I don't regret what I've done, she repeated to herself.
I feel guilty.
She didn't wish she hadn't; she knew that she'd had to. So that was just regret. Right?
But didn't she wish she hadn't?
She felt guilty now.
Incredible, heart wrenching, mind numbing, aching, sickening guilt.
But there hadn't been any other way.
Going back in time she'd probably do it again.
Regret;
Guilt;
She didn't regret the decision.
She felt guilty for it.
Which was worse?
The guilt would always haunt her but it wouldn't eat her away like regret.
She did not regret it.
It was guilt.
Only guilt.
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Really I shouldn't post so fast – it only reduces my reviews. Prove me wrong!
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