The sound of my phone plopping to the gelid floor echoed throughout the room, causing Max's widening eyes to turn to my curled and helpless body.
"Camille . . ." He murmers under his breath, as the blonde-headed whore beside him stands up in awe.
I pick my head up, staring into Max's sorrowful eyes, then at the dumbfounded girl standing in the corner in only a black lace bra and a thong.
I quickly look up at the ceiling, hastily batting my eyes to try and clear my blurry vision; but when they fall on Max, my heart breaks further.
"I'm sorry," he croaks, "I never meant to hurt you," his voice sounding hoarse from the evident tears that were forming in his eyes.
"Well you did a good job at it," I swallow hard, my throat feeling dry and sore.
He stiffened, slowly walking towards me in only his boxers, "Please let me explain."
"Explain what Max? The fact that you were about to fuck some blonde bimbo?" My voice cracks and I look away.
"Camille, I'm so sorry." He lays a hand on my shoulder, but before he could speak again, I stopped him.
"Don't fucking touch me," I scream, shoving his hand off of me.
I bite my lip, trying to stop the tears from trickling down my cold, pink-stained face.
"Don't--don't talk to me," I utter through my already red-flushed face. I shake my head, then turn around, ready to bolt.
"Camille please," Max stops me, tightly holding onto my wrist.
I flinch, forcefully pulling my arm away from him, as I continue walking out.
"Camille," he sighs, his jaw clenched tightly, "give me a chance to explain."
I stopped at the door of his room. His words piercing into my fragile, broken body.
"Give you a chance to explain? A chance to explain what. Explain how I wasn't good enough for you? Explain how I should forgive you for the shit you're putting me through? Or do you want me to act as if everything's okay? Do you want me to act as if I'm okay?"
I couldn't stop the words from falling from my lips or the tears I let unwillingly cascade down my cold cheeks.
I hear him raise a hand to his face, mumbling to himself reassuringly as he forcefully was watching me slam the door shut and walk out of the room.
And then I ran for my life.
It was 3am and I was running along the empty streets, hoping to find myself. The world was crumbling beneath me.
My heart was racing; but not in the good, fluttery way--no, but in the frightened, abandoned way. It felt as if my heart would stop beating, I couldn't take it anymore, I couldn't keep it in any longer . . .
Max cheated on me. He cheated on me with some slut. I was so flawed that he had to cheat on me.
Everything he said, were they really all lies? Everything he did these past couple years, were they really all to crush me--all to break me down?
No--I wasn't going to let him take control of me. I wasn't going to let him have what he wanted. He doesn't deserve any of this. He doesn't deserve me.
--and then I crashed. I collapsed on a street bench, still in my polka-dotted dress and black stiletto heels.
I let my legs curl up under my chin, as I sobbed in heartbreak.