D a y d r e a m s

d e v a s t a t i o n

Oh, she was a fool.

Her mind reeled. She couldn't see. Boiling anger in the form of salt and tears burned at the rims of her eyes and as she slammed the car door into its frames, they spilled. They smeared her cheeks, they met at her chin, they splattered onto her newly bought dress.

Her fingers managed to insert the key into the ignition and her car roared to life. Within a few seconds, she was speeding away from the party, speeding away from him.

She took to the highway. She drove past dozens of other cars heading home, but she wasn't on the road for her bed. Emilie actually had no idea where she was going, but she stayed in the farthest lane on the left, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles and palms screamed of pain.

There was a tear in her chest, and every breath served only to suffocate her even more. Her gasps came out choked and broken. She felt as though her ribs had been splintered and turned into jags of steel, stabbing into flesh.

She couldn't stop crying.

* * *

Oh, he was a fool.

His mind was a hum, a blur of colors and music and alcohol. He was wasted away amongst his friends, and the alcohol was poisonous. The substances turned treacherous. Evan had forgotten. His mind had wandered, it had gotten lost.

He took the girl's hand as she led him upstairs. He grinned at her giggle and his fingers brushed her pretty auburn hair aside. He didn't recognize her face. He thought she was like Emilie. Which was weird, because Emilie had golden hair.

He forgot.

Evan didn't realize what he had been doing. He hadn't realized that his shirt was off and that he was in someone's bedroom. He didn't realize that he shouldn't have been in the bedroom.

It happened too fast, and Evan, his mind a whirlwind, hadn't realized who he had been on top of until the door opened and someone was there. Someone who gave a gasp so loud it pulled him back to the reality for a minute.

Someone who looked too much like Emilie.

And then she was gone, vanishing like a ghost. And when he felt the other girl's hand on his chest, cold water flooded his veins and he scrambled off the bed, charging down the stairs. He was barefooted, clothed only his jeans, but he didn't care.

Emilie, please, no, wait!

He called her name. He shouted over the music, the fear evident in his cries as he pushed past the girls and boys, all of them drowning in beer and liquor they shouldn't be in possession of. He shoved open the door but he saw her car. He saw her drive away. Away from him.

Oh, he was such a fool.

* * *

The phone rang. And it rang. The tune wouldn't stop singing. Seconds, then minutes passed. Five minutes turned into ten, and ten turned into twenty. Forty-five minutes after pulling over onto the side of a highway, Emilie finally glanced at her phone, her heart wrenching as she saw his picture, his smile pressed against her cheek.

Another gasp escaped her and she pressed her face against the steering wheel, her tears coating the leather surface.

Forty-five minutes turned into fifty, fifty minutes turned into an hour. The phone hadn't stopped ringing.

She still couldn't breathe.

Emilie felt like she was drowning with a titanium anchor fastened around her ankle. No matter how much she tried, there was no air coming in. Oh, god, her chest felt as though it had been torn apart, and her body was shuddering in her seat. Her fingers couldn't unwind and she curled up in her seat, her head thrown against the leather as she pulled at her seatbelt.

I can't breathe.

* * *

"Emilie, please, it's been an hour, pick up," Evan begged into the phone.

An hour turned into two, and yet she still hadn't answered.

He was down on his knees in his apartment, his phone in his hand as he prayed and prayed and prayed. Let her be safe, he thought. Oh, god, please let her come home to me.

He no longer forgot. He remembered everything. How it hurt to remember. He knew he shouldn't have accepted the cup. But finals had just finished and Emilie had encouraged him to go to the party. He shouldn't have taken a sip.

He remembered now. He remembered that Emilie had brilliant golden hair that fell to her chest, always tangled, always flying in the wind. He remembered brushing the strands aside when she laid her head in his lap as they sat underneath the stars in the summer.

He thought of her eyes and how they lit up like the city at night whenever he told her a lame joke. He was thankful he couldn't remember what they looked like when she walked in. His chest was already crushed enough as it was. He couldn't think he could take anymore pain. Please, someone make this stop.

Evan couldn't breathe.

* * *

"I hate you," Emilie spat, though her voice cracked on the middle word and her venom was betrayed by the agony, the overwhelming sensation of desperation and loss in her.

I love you.

"Emilie, no, I'm so sorry," he sobbed and she let out a cry at the sound of his voice again. He sounded so sincere. She wanted to believe him, but boys were liars. You were right, Mom, boys are nothing but trouble.

"I didn't mean to, I had too much to drink! I didn't even realize--I couldn't even see! Emilie, please, please let me explain everything--"

"I trusted you," she half-laughed. Oh, how his voice promised so many things, but she couldn't see them anymore. She couldn't remember how he laid with her at night, stroking her lower back as she dozed off. She couldn't remember the way he smiled when he kissed her.

Not without suffocating.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated, his words now hushed and broken. "Please come back, Emilie, I promise I'll do whatever it takes to make it up. Just please come home. Come home, I need you."

"It didn't look like you needed me," Emilie said. Every part of her had fallen at the seams. Her fingers were trembling. She couldn't see straight. The tears had yet to stop falling from her eyelashes, and everything was raining when she opened her eyes. Someone make this stop, she begged.

"Emilie, no--"

"I hate you." I love you. "Don't ever come into my sight again." She hung up. Then she let out another howl and she clutched at her chest, keeling over in her seat. She could remember now. She remembered his laughter as she danced around in the apartment. She remembered how it felt to have him pull her against his chest for no other reason than to pull her in for a kiss.

Oh, she couldn't breathe again.

* * *

The phone fell from his hands and he was pressed against the couch as he slouched against the floor. His fingers pulled at his hair as a monster shredded the insides of his chest and decimated the ribs. Devastation pierced his lungs and every breath he took, red stained his vision. Salt and water coated his cheeks and they trickled onto his t-shirt.

Every part of him ached. There was a pit inside his stomach, a hollow, empty, broken feeling.

Oh, god, he couldn't breathe.

He couldn't stop whispering her name as the seconds turned into minutes, and the minutes turned into hours. His body became numb, but the pain was still there. It was alive, it was real, it was excruciating.

Come home, he prayed, pressing his face into the palms of his hands.

It didn't seem like he could ever breathe again.

* * *

Oh, how they were both fools.

***
dedicated to automaten -- i tried my best, i've never experienced a breakup so well, here's my best imitation