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I keep reliving our last conversation. Everything about it was so wrong. I should have said “yes.” I should have gone with him. My business really wasn’t that important. Come to think of it, nothing is really so important if it keeps me from Vic.
My business.
My morals.
My life, even. If it keeps me from Vic, it’s pointless.
However, like I said, he’s gone now. I have absolutely no way of reaching him. I’ve never had regret like this before. True, I’ve had some twinges of remorse in the past, but I’ve always been able to brush them off and move on. I believe in the philosophy that everything happens for a reason, make lemonade, etc. Now I have serious regret.
I always believed that my impulsivity benefited me in the end. I never tried to fix it because I thought it was a good thing. Even when I felt terrible, in the end, something good came out of my impulsive decision. When I dropped out of college I became an event planner. When I ran away from Dean I found Vic.
Oh, god. Vic.
I regret not fighting for Vic.
This is a regret that threatens to end me.
My entire body feels like it’s being pulled apart. Something was taken from me, a vital organ is missing. I want to lie in bed and never get up. I want to scream. I want someone to blame, someone other than myself.
How—how!—could I have been so absolutely stupid? I let a piece of myself go. I want to cut again, to release the pain. I run into my kitchen, compelled by some otherworldly force. I search for a knife, for anything, to stab myself with and release all the heartbreak. As I’m about to cut, I stop.
The scars on my wrists stop me.
Pointless. Wholly, senselessly, pointless. Vic would be disappointed; I’m disappointed. I fall to the ground in a sobbing heap, still clutching the knife, afraid to let go.
There is nothing worse than knowing you’re the reason for your own destruction. With each tear, I feel emptier. Crying doesn’t help the situation, but I can’t stop them from coming.
I don’t know how long I’m on the floor crying. It feels like forever, and it doesn’t feel long enough.
I have bad thoughts, thoughts that a therapist would call negative and self-destructive. I can’t help it though. They aren’t false thoughts; I really am the reason for my unhappiness. I threw away my chance at love. How can I forgive myself? I wish I can go back in time. All the reasons I said “no” for seem so rash and petty. Why did it take him leaving for me to realize that?
Knock, knock.
I choked on a sob, turning to the sound of the knocking, my heart fluttering. My heartless imagination hopes its Vic, has me convinced its Vic. I know in my mind that it can’t be Vic and it won’t be him. Nonetheless, I sprinted to the door. Maybe he feels the same way I do. Maybe the ground is turning to quicksand like it is for me. Maybe he needs me as much as I need him.
As I reached the door, Zoe’s voice came through the wood. “Nox!”
I stumbled back, confused. Even though I told myself it wasn’t Vic, my imagination had already begun building him beyond the door. Zoe’s voice crushed that picture as swiftly as if she’d murdered him in front of me.
I had a meeting with her, Lissie, and a couple of venture capitalists. Clearly I’d forgot. Taking a deep breath, I placed my hand on the door knob and opened the door, putting on my best happy face. I’m sure my tears are visible, I’m sure my eyes are red, but depression makes people brilliant actors. I’d faked happiness until I met Vic, and I could do it again.
“Hey!” I said. I could feel my fake cheer seeping through my teeth like blood from a bitten tongue. “Sorry, I was, uh, I was getting an apple.”
Zoe and Lissie looked at my apple-free hands.
I gave my shoulders a quick shrug. “I decided against it.”
“Are you okay?” Zoe asked, narrowing her eyes. “We haven’t actually talked about Vic—”
I waved my hand, cutting her off. The last thing I could do right now was talk about Vic. The very mention of his name felt like a punch to the gut. I stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind me. “I’m fine, everything is okay. Let’s go. We should get there early, get the lay of the land, and stuff.”
Zoe once told me that happiness wasn’t about who you were with, it wasn’t about what substance was in your system, and it wasn’t even about where you were. Happiness was a state of mind. As I sat toasting my newly funded business with my best friends and business partners, I realized what utter bullshit that was.
At least for me.
With Vic, I had been happy. And I been such an arrogant twat that I didn’t even realize it. I thought that I controlled my happiness, so I believed I didn’t need him. But I did need Vic. I needed him more than I needed my next breath.
Throughout my life emotions were as dangerous as mines in a minefield. My father disregarded them, and my mother was killed by them. Meeting Vic allowed me to finally experience every emotion I kept under lock and key without threat.
