FIGHT

Chapter 18

It's been three weeks.

Three weeks without seeing Holden. Without talking to Holden. Three weeks without being able to get him out of my mind.

I've never felt this much pain in my life.

I can take my dad. I can take Luke. I can even take the images of the night my mom was killed. But I can't take this three weeks without Holden. It's the hardest thing I've ever had to endure.

The days have passed by as one large blur. For the first few days, I couldn't bring myself to get out of bed. I cried until I didn't have any more tears left in me. I refused to eat. I didn't take any phone calls from anyone. That's what I was like until day three.

He stopped calling after day three.

Each day I try to push the pain away. It doesn't work, but sometimes I'm able to pretend it does. I wish I could say it's getting easier, but in reality, I'm only starting to get used to the burning hole in my heart.

I'm a zombie at work. I'm a zombie at school. I keep going through these day to day motions like I'm a robot fulfilling orders.

I stopped training.

My body aches, my muscles itching to move while at the same time wanting to stay stagnant. Holden had a grip on my heart and it's yet to go away. I'm afraid it never will. I don't want to live in this pain for the rest of my life.

I heavily underestimated my feelings for the curly haired boxer.

It makes me shake to admit it to myself, but I feel even worse when I don't. Somehow, between the ego, sarcasm, and adorable little dimples, it happened. It happened so fast that I pretended not to notice until it was too late.

I fell in love with Holden Samuels.

I shake the thought from my mind; focusing on that fact will kill me. My brain feels sluggish as I glance at the clock. 6:47. I can't be late for work again this week; I'm at the latest I can wait before getting ready.

My closet is a mess and I pick out clothes within thirty-seconds, not particularly caring if they match. At this point, barely anybody is making eye contact with me at work, much less assessing what I put on my body. I'm fairly certain I'm beginning to scare people.

I should care, but I don't.

The clothes feel itchy on my skin. Everything I've worn in the past three weeks has. Everything except the shirt Holden gave me before I saw him fight. I've only taken that shirt off when I've absolutely had to.

This is not healthy.

I sluggishly move towards my bathroom; the last thing I want is to go to work, but there's no way around it. When I reach my bathroom, I immediately turn to face the dirty mirror. Even with all the dust clouding the glass, the mess of my appearance is evident. My hair needs to be washed and the circles under my eyes are darker than ever.

And my eyes.

I had gotten so used to seeing the light in them. When Holden came into my life, the light never left. Just the thought of him kept me lit like a lantern. And now that he's out of my life, my eyes have gone back to how they were before. Dead. Lifeless.

Any effort I planned to make for work today is completely shot when my gaze focuses on my eyes. I can't stand looking at them; it's painful being able to tell what I've lost just from my eyes.

I grab my phone and purse, dashing out of my apartment. I try not to think as I slam my door behind me; Holden had the door replaced just so I wouldn't worry about it.