A fractured fairytale

86

༻ Rose's POV ༺

It was a week ago that Matt caught me outside the exam hall and asked to talk. A part of me wished I'd broken out into a run to escape that conversation. And I wasn't a runner.

Another part of me could breathe a little easier having spoken to him. He told me he didn't hate me and he said it with such sincerity that I believed him. He even seemed to understand why we couldn't be together, although, when he told me he would always love me, my chest ached. I'd told him I was too scared to let myself fall in love with him, that if I did, I wouldn't be able to walk away.

But the truth was, I was already in love with him. I'd already fallen.

It was how I knew that I couldn't trust myself to walk away when things got hard. I'd fallen fast for Matt. A lot had happened in the short time we'd been together, but the truth was, it was a short time. We'd known each other for less than four months and we'd only officially been dating for less than that. There was still so much to learn about each other and so much to experience as a couple, but that didn't matter.

I was head over heels in love with him.

And being apart from him was breaking my heart.

But I kept reminding myself that if this is how I feel now, after a few months, how would I ever be able to walk away after a few years? A few decades? If I started to plan our future together, if we lived together, got married, had kids? How would I ever have the strength to walk away from him if things started to change.

Anyone can become an alcoholic. There're no requirements, no exclusions. Anyone can have a drink to take the edge off one day, and then another, and then another. And one day can become two, and then a week, and then suddenly, you can't go a day without it.

And Matt has a temper. There's no denying that. Even if it's never been directed at me, I've seen it. I've seen him snap and lash out, seen him throw a punch first and then think it through later. With alcohol clouding his judgement, it would only be a matter of time.

I also knew that our relationship would always be imbalanced. I was already living in an apartment his father had given us. I was already living in a fancy building his family owned, with doormen loyal to him, paying a reduced rent to his family. I could see us further down the line, living in a house he paid for, living off his money. No matter how hard I worked, I would never have the kind of money he has at his fingertips. It would be like living with my father all over again, completely under his control. If I walked away, I'd be left with nothing.

And even worse, his family owned this town. He could stop me from getting a job, he could stop me from going to the police, he could stop me from seeing my own children. He had the power and the connections to do whatever he wanted with me.

I couldn't willingly put myself back in that position.

No matter how much I wanted him.

So, I spent the week sulking. I ignored his messages, despite the ache to respond, if only to have someone to talk to. Mom was always gone by the time I woke up and she often didn't come home until late, having gone out after work with her new friends. When she did come home and I tried to spend time with her, it usually ended in her lecturing me about not putting in the effort with anyone at school.

Tears welled in my eyes every time she told me I was the only one to blame for having no friends. As though I hadn't spent years hiding from everyone in the hopes that they wouldn't notice what was going on at home. As though she herself hadn't told me to end things with Matt out of fear that he'd find out about my dad. I'd been forced to isolate myself for years and now it was too late to start making friends a month before the end of my senior year.