Ruin

59

Saturday: 12:10 A. M.
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I feel numb.

Through blurred vision, I stare at my reflection in the mirror for what feels like forever.

But, no matter how long I stare, the woman staring back looks nothing like the 'me' I'm used to. With a tearstained face the colour of a ripe tomato, runny nose, and eyes bloodshot and puffy, she looks nothing short of a shell.

Empty, broken, and hollow.

Fragile.

A total mess.

I sigh, bringing my eyes down to look at the marks left on my wrist from digging too hard into my skin.

My mind is racing with thoughts, but I can't seem to focus on anything long enough for it to register.

Each time I close my eyes, only one image sticks out to me: that of Lucas's face and the hurt in his eyes.

Pain, and hurt caused by me.

Unintentionally...nonetheless.

The sound of Lucas's voice rings repeatedly in my ears. His words and the repercussions they hold, if acted on, cuts at my heartstrings with each thought.

'I begged you not to hurt me, Amanda. Yet, you did. But, guess what? It's all good.'

It hurts. The fact that he's blaming me, when I already blame myself for it.

I still can't believe I'd let things get this far.

Have you ever wished you could hit rewind? I have...and I do. I wish I could take back all that I've done up to now. But, I can't. And that thought makes me feel worse.

Another eternity passes before I finally find the strength to wipe my tears and turn on the tap.

The water is so powerful, it sprays all over the sink, splashing all over the floor and my dress in the process, but I don't care.

Instead of cursing like I usually do, I adjust the pressure and tuck my opened palms beneath the warm stream.

And sigh again. I feel drained.

Tired. Defeated. Too much to make a fuss.

My body feels like it just wants to crash, but something inside me is pushing me to go find him. Go make amends.

I owe him that much.

After splashing the water on my face, to rid it of some of the tears and snot, and redness, I decide to go with the latter.

When I make it out to the living room though, no one's there.

The ground is littered with chips, dips, and empty liquor bottles and shot glasses; left to mark the spot where each person had been seated.

Carefully stepping over each, I make my way up the stairs and towards our bedroom.

Each step I take, though, feels like I've taken two steps back. With weak limbs, I grip the rails tightly, trying to push myself to mount to stairs quicker; the need to apologize, before it's too late, laying heavy on my heart, seemingly weighing me down.

The thought of losing Lucas is killing me. Yes, I know that sometimes I act like I don't need him, but, without him, in actuality, I think I would die. I honestly wish I could love him the way he deserves.

It's just...I don't know, but I have a tendency to not trust. And, lately it has gotten worse. No matter how good he is to me, somehow, I can still manage to find flaws in his perfection. Even when it's far from my intention.