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HANNA
19 Years Old
"When are you going to stop lying to me, Jameson!" I scream erratically into his face as he slams a fist through the wall of our apartment.
"I'm not lying to you! Would you just fucking drop it? If you don't trust me, you should probably just move out!"
His words hurt, igniting a fury deep in the pit of my stomach. The rational part of me knows he doesn't mean that and he'd be right here unpacking my boxes tomorrow.
"How could I trust someone who does nothing but lie to me?"
He stalks past me, yanking his truck keys up off the counter.
"No, you can't just run away from this! Plus, you're drunk!"
He grits his teeth together, forcing the words out, "Do you really think that I care?"
I stumble backward as he pushes past me. I try my best to position myself between him and the door.
His eyes fall to mine, "Don't," he demands.
"If you walk out that door, Jay, we're done."
He looks straight past me with no emotion at all, like he doesn't even care.
"Then we're done."
The door slams so hard it rattles everything in the room, and my knees bang against the floor. The tears flow quicker than I even think is possible as I scream uncontrollably into my palms.
I don't even have the energy to pick myself up off the floor, but I know I'll never forgive myself if I don't at least message Logan. He'll go find him to make sure he doesn't do anything extreme. I swipe my tears onto the sleeve of my sweatshirt and pull my phone up off the coffee table.
Shooting a quick text to Logan is first, then I call Karly to come over. I need someone to talk to, and I've already given up on Blake. Most of my texts go unanswered, and when I do finally get a random call from her every month or so, it's like she's hiding something.
Everyone is hiding something. It's tearing Jameson apart that Judson is so secretive and missing most of the time. He doesn't know what to do with himself. His behavior is erratic and unpredictable. I don't even know how to have a conversation with him anymore.
He holds my heart forcefully between his fingers and squeezes it so tightly that most of the time, he has me on my knees, begging him to loosen his grip. I know most of it stems from his father, but he refuses to talk about it. I can't break through these walls he's forced up between us, and they are pushing us further apart by the second. He doesn't show up when he says he will. He lies about where he's been. He is drunk ninety percent of the time, and I can't help but pick him up and hold him together. One look from him, and I'm right back under the spell.
Karly pushes the front door open without bothering to knock, surveying the room, "This isn't healthy, Hanna."
I quickly jump to my feet, picking up the lamp that Jameson threw across the room.
"I don't know how to help him," I cry, and she quickly pulls me into a hug.
"Honey, you can't keep doing this."
I yank away, "I love him, Karly. I can't give up on him. I won't."
She looks around the room, her eyes stopping on the hole in the wall, "He doesn't even love himself. He can't love you. This isn't okay."
I cry harder, "I keep trying to hold on, but everything just sort of feels like goodbye."
"I know you don't want to hear this, but you are going to have to let him go."
I shake my head in agreement, standing to pack my stuff for the third time in a year. I will move to her place for a while and maybe put some distance between us.
"You're doing the right thing," She forces the corners of her lips up into an apologetic smile, "I'll pick you up in the morning."
"Okay, I'm going to go home for a few days. I need to breathe."
