The Sweet Taste Of Rejection

Chapter Six

The Sweet Taste Of Rejection
Nhica Moico
(Edited)

How long will I love you?
As long as stars above you
And longer, if I can.
How long will I need you?
As long as the seasons need to
Follow their plan.

How long will I be with you?
As long as the sea is bound to
Wash upon the sand.

How long will I want you?
As long as you want me too
And longer by far.
How long will I hold you?
As long as your father told you,
As long as you can.

How Long Will I Love You, Ellie Goulding

Chapter Six

Unrest was said to be a dangerous trait. It was said to create the deviled monster lurking in the shadows, to form the skeletons in our closets. Like passion. In acts of courage it renders you valiant, in acts of love and manipulation it results in dire consequences. Later the night after my encounter with Jace, I laid in my bed wide awake despite my eyelids being heavy. The quietness of it left me drowning in the turmoil of my thoughts. It was poisoning my mind as I replayed by last encounter with Jace twelve hours ago. It had seemed so surreal just thinking of him and I fighting and spewing venomous words when two years ago I worshiped him as if he were a king. I had given everything I could give and he took them for granted. He walked all over me and crashed my hopes, my dreams, and my deteriorating sanity.

            Once upon a time, I dreamt of having children and living in a small yet serene house with Jace. I had mentally prepared for years to be the domestic wife he wanted but it never really struck me until know that he would never comply to that. He could never commit to that idyllic lifestyle. And two years ago, with that wound still stabbing me, I learned happily ever-after did not exist. Especially mine; I had been delusional right in the beginning. And perhaps that was how I committed to vengeance, the thought of payback. Now? I was unsure.

            I glanced at my bedside clock, the neon red lights blaring midnight. A yawn escaped from my lips, and I covered my mouth in instinct as if someone was there to see me. I cursed mentally. Since the day I left Jace, I learned how to be graceful, poise, dainty; how to not make mountainous amounts of mistakes, and to be flawless. He ingrained it in my brain. Screw him and his damn rules.

            My eyelids fluttered closed and sleep numbed the pain for a while. Sleep was always a fascinating phenomena to me. It was like death, without the commitment. Liquor that knocked you out cool and mended the wounds of a heartbreak, temporarily. I craved it. I yearned for it.

            But by the time I woke up, sunlight streamed through the glass window and temporarily blinded me. Birds started chirping and signing outside, and I sighed in exasperation as I slid out of the plush covers. Folding them neatly and acutely, I propped the plush pillows towards the feet of the bedspread and sauntered towards the bathroom. Slipping off my satiny nightwear, I stepped into the shower. Blaring the shower water to a hot, steamy temperature I observed the water singe my skin pleasantly; trickling downwards like a ravine. As I applied soap and conditioner, my mind wandered off towards Jace. What on earth did he want from me? From us? What more could he possibly want?

            The thought unsettled me. Jace played with fire constantly, it was a known fact. But in order to see him pay the price for the way he ruined me, I had to know what fire he played with specifically. And yet he remained cryptic and equivocating--constantly using double truths and weird words--like it was his arsenal. And I prayed I wasn't the next target.  Shaking a wet strand of my dark, sleek curly hair out of my dull, lifeless blue eyes and stepped out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around my body and hair, I bent down and dug my nails deeply into my hair with the towel; in attempt to dry it. Rising back upwards, I stared at myself in the mirror and traced patterns of tiredness for few moments.