A/N: Review, review, review please! I need some motivation. D: I promise the next one will be longer.
Day 50, 4:57 p.m.
"What was I to you?" Jimmy spits, eerily calm.
I shake my head, blow air through my nose, and this time he screams:
"What the #!*% was I to you?"
I jerk back, as if his words were a physical blow. I won't cry. I will not cry. "A friend. Someone I loved. And a memory. A #!*% beautiful, #!*% memory." The tears are heavy behind my voice.
Disbelief hardens his face. "You know what?" Jimmy whispers, shaking his head, but then his voice grows stronger. "I don't love you." He pauses, swallowing, and I see the cool fury in his eyes. "You don't even get to be a memory."
Something snaps, and rage replaces my hurt. I lean closer, taunting him, daring him to hit me. "Nice #!*% tattoo, then."
The expression on his face is bitter as he steals one more kiss, locking my mouth with his like a fly on tape. This is nothing like the tender embraces we shared at midnight, riding out our high behind closed doors. This is a show of dominance, one last slap to my shattered resolve. He looks triumphantly over his shoulder as he walks away, reveling in the pieces of my heart that litter the ground like broken gravel.
I sit up, snatching a rock from the dust, and give it my best aim toward his retreating back. " #!*% you!" I scream, angry tears streaking through my eyeliner as I turn away.
"Oh what, you're gonna come after me?" He mocks. His hands are shackles as he slams me against the spray painted wall.
I gasp, breath coming out in short gusts as sobs wrack my chest. I push him away, but his arms are a wire cage. " #!*% you," I whisper, the words contorted by tears and pain.
Jimmy stares in disgust like I'm a crumpled dog on the highway. He pushes my head back into the cement, forcing my eyes to his. His words are slow and deliberate, as if he were speaking to a child. "You…are #!*% just a pair of tits. That's all you've ever been to me."
I look at his furrowed brow and gaze at the resentful flames in his eyes. I wonder if I put them there. "I…want…to go….home…" I whisper, because I've realized it's too late. There's no way to turn this hate into love. I thrash in his arms, finding a strength that wasn't there before, and shove him back. "Go!"
He rips away, kicking over an empty trashcan as he passes. It leaves a metallic thud ringing in my ears.