Precious [h.s.]

Chapter 50

Reading the words I write, I wonder why I am doing this. Where do I hide these feelings? Why do I hide these feelings? I've grown up in such a positive household, with a mother that always encouraged me to not shy away from something purely human, and with a sister who would rather comfort me than laugh at me when I started crying because my sixteen-year-old self just got broken up with. Time and time again, I find myself looking in the mirror, saying that I should man up, that this is nothing, that she's insignificant, and that this situation isn't as much of a big deal as I make it out to be. With each second that I stare back at my reflection, those venomous words start swimming through my brain, but then I ask myself why does it hurt so much if she doesn't mean anything to me? Why do I feel like the worst thing that could ever happen to me just happened if it's not a big deal? Why do I still love her like I do if this is nothing?

I read what I write, and I have a full-on breakdown. I feel like burning all the papers I've worked on, ripping them to shreds, and just starting to drink again. That has been another problem of mine lately. I've never been one to drink a lot - maybe once in a while, and at the occasional parties I've gone to, but now I sit at my desk, always accompanied by a glass of something. Just yesterday, anger took over me and I spilled down the toilet bowl a full bottle I bought with all the tips I had received a few hours before.

Since she took the first step out of my door, it's like I've transformed into a new person, who not even I can recognize. I'm recalcitrant, I don't feel like talking to anyone, I say shit I don't mean, and I look like I'm having the worst day of my life every day.

I think my boss has noticed that I'm not in a good mood, since she forced me to actually work according to my program, and because I've been staying overtime for the past few days, she sent me home earlier. I was planning on sitting on my couch and watching TV until I fell asleep, but apparently, my friends had other plans. I couldn't say no to them, so now I have guests tonight. I was thinking of what I could say to make them stay out of my personal space, but then I thought that maybe this could be a change in the routine I've been in for the past few days.

Back home, every time I had my friends over it wasn't like the usual meet-up some broke students would have. I tried my hardest to make everyone have a good time. I would cook dinner for them, I'd buy their favorite drinks, and clean the whole house impeccably. Now, the best I could do was buy a couple of beers.

I haven't told anyone about mine and Nadine's breakup. I could say I did this because it's no one's business, but I think I'm just not ready to tell anyone about it. I haven't even told my mother. I don't know what I will say to them. All of them know things were good between us, so I don't know what lie that sounds believable I could make up.

I could just tell them the truth. Talk about how she's married, how she's rich because her husband's rich, how they have this big ass house where they live, which I've seen with my own eyes, how I didn't even know her real last name and that she has her husband's name, but I didn't bother to remember it, and go on and on about everything that she told me that turned out to be false.

After I've come to terms with the fact that it was truly happening, and that it wasn't just a figment of my imagination, I started looking at the stories she told me about her mom, her past, and even Olympia, in a different light. I don't want to think she wasn't truthful about topics that seemed so sensitive to her, but at the same time, I don't blame myself for doing so. I've turned every word she told me like a Rubik cube in my mind, trying to decipher what I can believe, and what I can't.

"We're here," someone says through the door, so I step away from my thoughts and welcome them into my house. Niall, Liam, and surprisingly, Olympia.

"Hi. Come in." I move aside and let them in, but as Olympia walks by me, I notice the weird way in which she's looking at me.