Page 112 of Breathe Like Hell

Everything about the lyrics reminded me of her. How she knew the flavor of our violence and still didn’t stay away from me—not as much as she should’ve. We were never safe, never predictable. Just like the ocean.

I got her chicken nuggets and fries with a big cup of ice water, then finally started heading towards the beach. The pit in my stomach grew heavier with each minute we got closer to those dark sands.

I parked us in the same gravelly area as always, staring out past the edge of the cliff at the ocean.

Beware…

The water would always be dangerous.

Dakota ate her food, then let me help her down the rocks to the beach, her bag of journaling supplies gripped in her fist. The wind coming off the ocean was chilly, smelling like salt and inevitability. We sat together on Dakota’s favorite rock, and I just stared at her while she got out the journal and some ribbon, a few blonde strands of hair curling around her face.

“Do you have something to say?” she asked, still focused on the black velvet ribbon.

“I’m sorry,” I started. “I really, really fucked up.”

I noticed her fingers were trembling slightly. I looked away, down at the sand.

“Yeah,” she said softly.

“I was pissed off, which you knew, and I just…It’s really fucking hard for me to talk about why. I don’t talk about it with anyone. Ever.”

“I’m not anyone, Mason.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here.” I took a steadying breath. “Because I love you so much it scares me, and sometimes it makes me act in ways I know I shouldn’t.”

She was quiet.

“You were right. Someone left me,” I said. The words felt like acid burning up my throat and over my tongue, stinging my lips on the way out. “Someone I loved,” I continued. “And it was fucking awful.”

Dakota stared up at me and there were questions in her gaze, but she didn’t voice any of them. She let me have this.

It was almost surreal, admitting it out loud. I hadn’t been exaggerating when I told her I didn’t talk about this with anyone. The only other person in the universe who I might’ve been comfortable enough to show this wound to was the one who’d given it to me in the first place.

“It was very abrupt, and I don’t think I ever actually recovered. My mind has always been unstable because of my aspect. Obsessive and violent. But this changed me in a different, worse way. And I know you probably think that’s dramatic, or something, because everyone gets left, but I swear it’s different.”

It felt different to me. It had to be different than just getting dumped.

I got the other half of my soul ripped away from me without so much as a glance back.

After so many years, it was the worst thing he could’ve done to me.

It was the worst thing he could’ve done, and also, exactly what he did.

He knew that.

He didn’t let me talk to him, ask him any questions, get any sort of closure, and I had to hate him for the rest of my life because of that. No matter what other emotions he dragged from me, that hatred would be there beneath it all. There was no excuse for that.

If I was too much for him, he could’ve talked to me about it. Granted me the dignity of a single conversation before obliterating my heart.

It wasn’t like I was incapable of realizing I was a lot to deal with.

I knew that. It was crystal fucking clear to me.

“Like an ex girlfriend?” Dakota asked.

“Yeah.” Ex boyfriend, but close enough.

“Okay.” She glanced away, frowning a little bit. “Do you still love her or something?”