The Reason

Chapter Eleven

I was weak when I ended it with Rex.

I always told myself that all of those weaknesses put together, forced me to become strong. But I was wrong. All of those weaknesses have forced me to become a pretender. I pretend to be strong. I have convinced everyone around me, and my stupid self, that I am someone who is resilient and strong.

What a complete joke.

I'm a joke.

I am not strong. I am the same weak person that I have always been. Only this time, denial has blinded me. Denial clouded my thoughts and numbed the bitter truth—I am weak.

My weakness is what made me pursue Rex.

My weakness is what made me go to the hospital to see him. I should have just stayed away.

My weakness is also what made me open the door to Rex last night. I shouldn't have let him in. I have cut open an old scar and that old scar is going to take so much longer to heal now.

Why do I keep hurting myself in this way?

Why can't I just close the door forever on Rex?

Why can't I stop loving him?

That's when the sobs fracture my soul. They painfully puncture every part of me. Engulfing me in an aching desolation. Curling up into a tight foetal ball, I cry until no tears are left to cry and wait for the devastating tiredness to come for me. Exhaustion and devastation; the only two things that I know I will find some sleepy solace in.

**

My swollen eyelids slowly open, my depressed body is stirring amidst the stillness of the dark night. Blinking the soreness away, I think I hear something. I don't move, not even to blink.

Tap! Tap! There it is again. A gentle knock to my front door. With my heart thudding, I lift my head to see what the time is: 01:27AM.

Dragging myself out of bed, with my heart fearfully thumping, I rush down the stairs. Intuition tells me that it's Rex. My wildly beating heart somehow knows that it's him knocking on the door at this dark and unsociable hour.

Quickly opening it, I am not prepared to see the broken and withdrawn man that's propped against my cottage porch with his head hanging low in self defeat. "Rex! What's wrong?" I cry, reaching out to hold him.

He doesn't look at me, he only mumbles. "I've been to see him!"

As soon as he says him, I need no further explanation of who Rex is mumbling on about. Bringing him into the warmth of my home, I coax him towards the sofa in the unlit living room. We sit down together and I just hold onto his arm because I think he needs holding. I say nothing straight away. I just keep holding on, stroking him with small and comforting sweeps of my fingers. With his head still sadly down, he stares out at the darkness that chillingly fills the room. "Why did you go to see your father, Rex?" I need to ask, I want to try and understand.

With his elbows on his knees, he holds his distraught head in his hands and sighs. "I don't know why. I went to work feeling happy, but as the day went on, I began thinking about my dad. I needed to have it out with him. What happened between the two of you, I needed him to know that I knew." Just explaining his reasons for wanting to see his father, Rex is still very much in the grip of his sombre anger.

Taking one of his hands into mine, I give it a thoughtful little squeeze but Rex winces in pain as I do. I frown, turning his hand over to see a badly bruised and swollen knuckle. "What happened?" I ask, tenderly stroking it with just one finger.