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My chest aches.
My eyes are all gummy and burning from where I have cried like a freaking baby for the last twenty minutes.
My nose is running like a faucet and my throat hurts from the sobs that have been ripping from me.
Along with all that, I just feel cold. Empty. Hollow. Meaningless.
Worthless. I feel fucking worthless.
Pulling into the driveway of my home, I park behind Phillip’s truck and get out, running to the front door. The light is off because, of course, they don’t expect company at one in the morning. Digging in my purse for my house keys, I curse myself for not just leaving them on my car key set. I always get nervous that if I lose my car keys I’ll lose my house key, and then I won’t be able to get into the house to get my car keys. I know; I’m crazy.
And I‘m fucking stupid for lying to Jude.
Frustrated, I cry out, dropping to my knees and dumping my purse on the porch. I shouldn’t be here. I mean, what are they going to do for me? I messed up, I ruined this, and now I have to figure out how to either A: fix it, or B: accept that Jude has every right to be mad at me and probably will never talk to me again.
“Oh, thank God!” I cry out, finding the house key that is on the Assassins key chain, but as I get up to open the door, leaving the contents of my purse behind, the door flies open and Phillip stands there in only a pair of shorts.
“Claire?”
I just stand there, tears dripping down my face, and I suck in a deep breath as my heart breaks all over again. Turning the porch light on, his eyes widen as he comes to me, stepping all over my stuff, but I don’t care.
“Claire, what’s wrong?” he asks, taking my shoulders in his hands. “Are you hurt?”
“He broke up with me,” I whisper, looking up into his face.
“Phillip?” I hear Reese ask, and I don’t know why, but I just break down. Crumpling against Phillip, he holds on to me as I cry so hard it hurts. Like, physically hurts. My body feels as if it has been hit by a Mack truck, my heart just feels numb, broken and everything just feels wrong. How did I let this happen? I knew that he could find out, but I thought he would listen to me, I thought he would understand.
Instead, he dumped me.
Picking me up, Phillip says, “That kid broke up with her.”
“Oh no,” Reese gasps as Phillip carries me into the house and into the living room. Once he lays me on the couch, Reese swoops in, bundling me in her arms, kissing my forehead. “Get her some water.” She kisses my forehead, moving my hair out of my face, and says, “It’s going to be okay, baby. Just breathe.”
Gasping for breath, I bawl into her chest, wrapping my arms around her, needing her love and comfort. I know now why I came here because I needed this. I needed Reese to tell me it was going to be okay. For a long time, we don’t move. Phillip walks around us, checking on me, and occasionally he rubs my back softly, asking me if I need anything. I say no because the thing I need won’t have me. When I’m all cried out and empty of all emotion, I close my eyes and sleep takes me quickly.
The last thing I think of is Jude calling me my mother.
When I wake the next morning, I’m alone on the couch, covered with my favorite One Direction blanket. Reaching for my phone that I find laying on the table, I check to see if I have any messages. I don’t. I check calls; there are none, so then I check Jude’s Facebook, and he hasn’t updated since yesterday. His last status says:
I love my girlfriend.
He then tagged me, and seeing those words, his profile picture of u
s kissing after one of his games, has my lip wobbling and my heart aching. I want to lie back down, cover myself with the blanket and just cry myself stupid, but then I feel like I need to wash my face. Sitting up, I look over to find Reese and Phillip at the kitchen island, watching me.
Looking away, embarrassed, I say, “Sorry for coming over so late.”
“Nothing to be sorry for. You are always welcome here,” Reese says. “I laid you out some towels and got you some old clothes if you want to go shower.”
Nodding, I stand up and tuck my phone in my pocket. I don’t look at them as I pass, heading to the bathroom and shutting the door behind me. Leaning against the door, a tear rolls down my face and I wipe it away before pulling out my phone. Clicking on my messages, I open a new text and type Jude’s name.
Me: Hey… I miss u. A lot. And I’m really sorry.
Unlike every other time, he doesn’t write back right away. When I get out of the shower after standing under the hot water for well over a half hour, I check and he still hasn’t written back. Maybe he had a rough night with his mom or something and he’s sleeping. When I look at the clock though, I see that it’s two in the afternoon. Cringing, I shake away the thoughts that come. I refuse to think that he’s moved on. He wouldn’t do that. He loves me. We’re just... Shit, he may love me, but that won’t keep him from finding someone else to fuck his pain away.
Picking my phone back up after dressing, I type:
Me: Please, Jude. Just talk to me. We can work this out.
