Love & Ruins (#2)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Maggie

I remember everything.

Perhaps in any cliche scenario, drinking yourself to the point of incoherency may result in brief memory loss, and that would've worked wonders to wash away any late-night regrets. God knows the things we do when we're drunk are better off buried in the deep pits of our subconscious.

But sadly, life finds a way to bring back what was supposed to be taken by the ocean right back to shore, because I remember everything.

From the moment I passed out on the floor and when I heard Evan's footsteps shuffling across the living room only to discover me sprawled out and intoxicated, my self-destruction was clearer than ever.

When he picked me up and cradled me in his arms so delicately as if he was afraid that at any moment, I could've shattered, I remembered it all.

The way his skin felt against my own, the look in his eyes so evident of concern and longing, and how gentle his tone was when he spoke. His actions were so lenient that you'd think he was putting away broken glass.

But despite the gentleness of his behavior, the impact of his words proved to be too unbearable for me to hear that it felt like being cut right open.

I couldn't take it. The way he talked seemed as though everything was fine. As if we hadn't been burning alive in a hell of our own making. I didn't mean to take it out on him nor was it my intention to let my emotions get the better of me, but at that moment, it felt as though there was nothing left for me to lose. He's seen me at my worst, he might as well see the other half of it.

So I let it all out. I said everything that I've wanted to say for God knows how long, everything was left out in the open. I confessed my sins and simply knelt at the altar, awaiting my repentance.

Then I passed out.

Fast forward to now, the consequences of my actions have sunk in and I realize after everything I said, I still have to look at Evan in the eye one more time because my plan to move out last night did not go as planned.

My attempts were cleaned up, however, my clothes were back in their previous place in Evan's closet as well as my luggage in his storage.

If he had planned to confront me about my confession last night thinking I remembered any of it, he must've planned to convince me to stay. He's smart, clearly putting two on two together, he knew after my confession I was planning to leave just like I always do.

Now that's not the case. By pretending to forget everything that's transpired I just myself deeper into a hole I can't get out of. That yes, I meant everything I said last night, but I only said it because I couldn't hold it in much longer.

But I don't regret what I said. I feel lighter now that it's out, but that doesn't make it any less hard to own up to it.

Perhaps it's because I've planned to tell him all along, just not in the circumstances I ended up doing it last night. I was hoping maybe I could've done it via letter, so at least then I'd be absolved from the pain of having to look him in the eye afterward.

But now I'm here, sitting on the couch, wondering how I'm going to break it to him that I want out of his apartment because I can't stand the thought of being near him any longer now that I've poured my heart out to him.

He's in class and I've decided to repack everything he put back in his closet, but it stings a lot more than when I did it the first time, with the absence of alcohol no longer clouding my judgment, it feels more real.