Loved You First ! Zarry !

Chapter 7 - H : Falling

It feels like an out of body experience, like everything isn't happening with me but someone else and I am just observing without able to do anything. Maybe it's the alcohol but I didn't have much.

I just want to ask him if he is okay and assure him everything is alright but I can't. He is so close yet so far. He is focused on Payno. Tears streaming down his face as well.

I feel robbed. The simple right to touch him, hold him, take care of him snatched away from me.

She hangs to him like a bell on a cat's neck. My cat. I want to scratch her face and I would have if I had sharp paws. Hatred courses through my veins and I know its uncalled for, she hasn't harmed me directly but some wounds are invisible and you don't necessarily need a sword to strike someone down.

Be kind, be kind I remind myself.
To people and to yourself.
Be kind even in your own thoughts.

I try reminding myself, my mother always tells me this, but it's becoming extremely difficult. Instead of standing right in front of them like a fool, I stumble inside the house, her house! I feel she has the world, my world and I am begging on the streets asking for scrapes living on nothing!

I experience a strange discernment that it isn't Liam but I who is drowning now, it isn't simple chlorine water but my salty waterworks, gallons and gallons of it, an ocean full of tears and me fighting for my last breath, getting swallowed in that ocean of despair.

I know sounds dramatic but that's how I feel. My body is drenched in chlorine water and its dropping on the floor, probably ruining the carpet. Good!

I am sad and horny AF, my pants are drenched and I don't have a shirt on and that stupid game left me turned on in spite of all the miserable feeling inside me. My body betraying my emotions. My eyes still sting so I look for the washroom to wallow in self-pity alone and calm myself down. But the nearby loo is locked so I knock twice. KG opens the door, her brown eyes pretty red & swollen but her make up intact. Maybe that's what she was fixing before I rudely interrupted her and looks like everyone is crying tonight.

"Sorry" I excuse myself. I don't have the energy for this even though some part of me wonders and worries about her.

Why is she crying?

I find my keys inside my wet denim's pocket and don't bother finding my shirt or jacket.
Home. I need home. As I drive past the big houses away from the party, I feel excruciating pain in my chest because though I am on my way to my house, my home is what I have left behind.

I fumble with my keys and they drop on the floor. Now my eyes are pouring in full stream. Seems like I can't do even one thing right.

Feeling cold and a tad bit sick, I don't know if it's all emotional or has it reached my physical being as well. I have this strong urge to see a proof that it wasn't always so bad, so I run upstairs.

I open my wardrobe and fish for our old photo albums and my diaries tucked somewhere in the remote corners of my cupboard behind the huge pile of clothes.

I get my foot stuck in something and fall down with few books in my hand. Everything is a mess. I sit up on the floor and snap open the first book I get my hands on, it's a photo album and there we are, Z and I, embracing each other, laughing in each other arms, me in my pink ballerina costume for a fancy dress competition in school and Z in his normal black clothes.

I remember calling him after I came back from the school and he came in his fancy yellow bike, paddling at full speed. Directly running towards me as I waited for him on the porch, not even bothered to park his bicycle and put it on its stand.

There we were hugging each other and going around in circles, the bike laying down on our mowed lawn.

My mom was so affected by our affection and she clicked a whole role of photos of us that day.

Z on his knees kissing my hand in one of them. In other one I kissed his check and he was all shy and laughing. He called me ballet beauty.

If I was still 9 like in the pictures, I would have written in my diary –

Dear God,

I don't know what have I done wrong but please give me my Zainie back.
I can't live without him, even breathing feels like a chore.

But I am not a child anymore. A drop of tear splashes on the photo, good thing it wasn't exposed and safe inside the album's photo pocket.

My head buzzing and body aching like hell, I sleep in my wet clothes, alone in my bed.

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