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Searing rage floods my veins as I storm out of the building. I don’t know why I’m so angry, but I’ve lost charge of my emotions and I don’t know how to get it back, or if I even can.
Twenty minutes later, I find myself in my apartment, not remembering how I got here. I head straight to the bathroom, hoping a bath will relax me enough to think clearly again. I sit in the steaming water for thirty minutes or so, my mind tormenting me the whole time. By the time I’m standing in the kitchen debating whether to make coffee, dressed only in a towel, I loathe myself, and my life.
Staring at my marred body in the bathtub disgusted me.
I’m ugly.
Selfish.
Unreasonable.
Theodore won’t admit it but he is mad at me, and so he should be. Not over the furniture, but at the kind of person I am. Maybe he doesn’t realise it yet but how I acted in the office is who I am. We simply haven’t been together long enough for him to know there will be plenty more of that in our future. I’m unstable. I push people away. He deserves better than that, better than me.
Say Something by A Great Big World trickles from the speakers in my iPod dock and I crank up the volume in an effort to distract myself from the ballooning anger in my chest. At least, I tell myself it’s a distraction, but I know damn well I’m purposely torturing myself. This playlist is a collection of trigger songs for me, songs that amplify the misery strangling my heart. These are the songs I used to listen to when I cut myself, or when life started getting good and I needed to bring myself down before I learned to enjoy it. These are the songs that remind me what a fucked-up bastard I am…and that is why I pressed play. I need reminding before I convince myself that I can be good enough for Theodore.
As the lyrics pour into my ears I can’t help but smile at the irony. If only I could say something, maybe then I won’t push him to the point where he has no choice but to walk away.
Because I will.
I don’t plan to throw the mug I’m holding and the action doesn’t register until I hear it smash against the wall. The balloon has burst and a powerful urge to destroy everything in sight overwhelms me. Flattening my forearm against the granite surface, I send everything on the counter crashing to the floor in one swift movement.
Spinning on my heels, I kick the fridge, pain shooting up my toes and into my foot. The pain is the least I deserve, so I do it again, and again, before ripping open the cupboards and dragging the contents out with my fist. Finally, my strength weakening, I punch several dents into the wall before sliding down against it and curling into a ball on top of the scene of destruction that mirrors the inside of my head.
“James?”
I think I hear my name but I’m sobbing so violently there’s every possibility I imagined it.
“James?”
Arms wrap around my shivering body and I don’t realise how cold I am until I feel the warmth of Theodore’s skin penetrate mine. “James, talk to me.”
I will my mouth to open, to explain that I’m so engulfed in pain I feel like I’m dying, but it won’t. The sobs slowly wane as Theodore’s hands smooth over my naked skin but silent tears continue to roll mournfully down my cheeks.
“It’s okay,” he whispers in my ear, his breath caressing my flesh like a blanket. “I’m here. You’re okay.”
“It hurts, Theodore,” I croak, the words splitting on my lips. “Hurts so fucking much.”
Palming my cheeks, he twists my face until I’m looking at him. “Where?” he asks, his expression contorted with concern and confusion. “Are you injured?”
“My head, my chest…it hurts.” I’m not sure if I’ve said the words aloud and part of me hopes I haven’t. I don’t want him to know. He shouldn’t be here, see me like this…but I can’t seem to pull myself together and move.
He uncurls himself from my naked body, my towel is missing, and my skin mourns the loss of his warmth by shivering.
Linking my arm at the elbow, he tugs gently. “Can you stand?”
In my head, I nod, but the action doesn’t materialise. Using his arm for support, I pull myself up until I’m standing, head down, eyes fixed on the littered floor.
Slowly, he leads me over to the living room, and every step I take is an effort. Being alive is an effort. Every minute feels like an hour, every day like a month.
I’m so tired.
Theodore stops by the couch. “Look at me, James,” he says, his hands resting tentatively on my shoulders.
I don’t. I can’t.
“Please,” he adds, his voice a desperate whisper as he places one finger under my chin, encouraging my head to rise.
Reluctantly, my gaze lands on his face, my vision hazy through the cloud of tears. “Take it away, Theodore.”
I don’t realise what I’m begging for until his tender lips graze mine. “I don’t know how.”
Tracing the edge of his lips with my tongue, I plead with him. “Make me forget.”
Unsure, he kisses me softly, absorbing my pain, distracting me. Initially, I’m frozen, but when his tongue dips between my lips I melt into him, moulding my hands to the back of his head.
Mouths fused together, I blindly unbutton his shirt and roll it over his shoulders, pulling him into me, skin to skin. I can feel his heart thumping against the walls of his chest, as fast and erratically as my own and I press my hand against it, losing myself in the rhythm.
My heart beats.
I’m alive.
“I-I’m sorry,” Theodore murmurs, breaking our kiss.
“No,” I beg, touching my nose to his. “Take it away. Please, if only for a little while. I need this. Need you.”
A single tear balances on his cheek and I kiss it away before burying my nose in his neck, inhaling the unique scent of him that never fails to calm me. Reaching between our bodies, I smooth my palms down his chest until they land on his buckle and I unfasten it before starting on his pants.
