Reverse Psychology

19: You promised.

Do you know Percy Jackson? He inspired the title, it's literally Annabeth but who cares?

BLOSSOM
"This is a secret," I said, my teary eyes begging, my wavering voice pleading. "Just between the two of us." I clarified.

He grinned, "your secret's safe with me, I promise." Well he had lied.
_____________________

"Who told you?"

"Butch." She answered with a regretful tone. She knew what he did, she definitely did, she had to have unless she wouldn't have sounded so sad.

I used to wonder, if my husband ever cheated on me and my best friends found out, would I want them to tell me or would I not? The question should have been easy to answer but it gets deeper and deeper. There was never a nadir to that question, never a definite end. I always vacillated between wanting to know and not. It was an endless cycle, a question that interlarded my mind more than I liked. On one hand of the spectrum, if I was told, it was a sure proof of friendship but that truth would destroy me. There would always be possibility I would never find out and if I never did, I could live a blissful life. My friends could be torn between such decisions; telling me and ruining my life or not and taking a plausible gamble. If I did find out on my own, it would destroy my friendship and trust.

So when Buttercup told me the truth forfeiting lying, I was reminded of the scenario and I finally got my answer. I would never have liked to know.

Buttercup was that friend torn in between two parts of a spectrum and she made her decision, telling me while knowing how much it would hurt, knowing how strong my attachment to Butch was.

People betrayed you, family betrayed you, even you betray you but I never thought Butch would betray me. I trusted him; the beginning of my stupidity. I was captivated by him, enamored even, with his beautiful smile, the warmth it promised so I thought him to be an angel, an angel from another world. He had me believing in other worlds again, an obvious red flag. He took me back to that old delusional blossom that ran through mirrors but he showed me a new world, a beautiful world. Different worlds don't steal your face they send angels to save you. I got fooled again.

I was stuck in past again but not wondering if I could jump through a mirror but if I could go back to that day. To that afternoon. If I could forget his warmth and protection. If I could forget everything and only know coldness again.

"Get out." I said to her, wanting to be alone to dispel my anger. I was seething, my hands clenched on the ground, nails pressing deep into my palms and I grimaced at how much it hurt. My head pounded and my whole body shook at the nostalgic feeling.

"Control," I kept murmuring but I didn't know how long I could hold myself back.

At my lowest point, I was forced to be alone but sometimes with a little wishful thinking, I feel like I shouldn't have to. I don't always want to ravel in solitude but there is no one I can turn to without feeling like a burden. No one I could turn to who hasn't gone through what I have. I wanted to find comfort in Buttercup as much as she did in me but I couldn't put her through the pressures of playing therapist. It was heart aching and draining and I needed her to be happy even though it meant giving up my own happiness.

My anger rose as bile in my throat, her unmoving feet riling me up. "Get out." I slapped my palms to the ground as I yelled letting my pain get the best of me, letting my anger have a taste of control.

Instead of the reaction I expected from her, I got something heartbreaking. "I hate you."

My eyes met hers in an instance. Her nose crinkled up and her eyes glared like she was disgusted by me, like she really hated me. My shoulders drooped and gaze fell once more to the ground under her feet. I tried to hold back my tears so hard I choked but still a pained sob escaped my lips, it hurt as much as it sounded. My chest rose and fell heavily; my nails scratched the tiled floor.