"Truth is everybody is going to hurt you: you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for."
- Bob Marley
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The air was knocked from my lungs and a burning rage shot through me like lightning.
All I could see was red and in that split second I understood how Taylor Swift could describe feelings with colors.
Although red was the color of love, it was also the color of a heated hatred that burned every single fiber in your body until there was nothing left but ruins and smoke.
Against any better judgment, that was exactly how I felt at the moment, when I saw the only boy I have ever truly loved holding hands with a girl that has interfered with our lives more often than I liked.
Torn between running up to him and demanding an explanation right now and right here, and even slap the hell out of him, and discretely planning my revenge, I was glad when Lisa took the decision away from me.
"That fucktard," she hissed, her blue eyes fixed on the lovely - note my sarcasm - couple in our view.
"Lisa, I-" I began, only to be immediately stopped.
"I know, let's go." Without another word, Lisa took my hand and dragged me away from the scene of crime and to her rusty car.
Once safely inside, I took a deep breath and fastened the seatbelt.
"Please tell me I only imagined it," I begged her, my voice on the edge of sounding whiny.
"I wish I could but that was clearly your twat of a boyfriend," Lisa replied, sending me an apologetic look through the rear view mirror.
"But I don't understand... Like... How?" I stuttered, unable to form a coherent sentence.
"If it makes you feel any better, I don't think they're engaged." I couldn't tell if Lisa was joking or not.
"Obviously they aren't. You've seen too many crime shows," I shot back.
"Well, you know, it's the little things that can betray your true identity," Lisa began. I knew she was about to launch into a whole explanation, so I held up my hand to stop her flow of words.
"No. He's with me most of the time. I know where he works - you've even been there with me. So stop trying to make me think that Harry is Amelie's fiancé. That just doesn't make any sense."
"You're right. Sorry." I nodded once, accepting her apology, and let her continue. "But that doesn't explain why he was holding her hand."
"What do you suggest now? Cry and eat ice cream while watching a sappy romance or chopping off his dick?"
Lisa grinned at me. "Do you even need to ask? Let's get the scissors ready."
"What team?" I shouted, triumphantly holding up my fists.
"Zosa!" Lisa shouted back.
"Zo- what?" I asked in confusion.
She let out a loud laugh. "It's our ship name."
Only Lisa could make me laugh in times like these. "What the hell? Why am I even still talking to you?"
"You love me. So, now, where we going?"
"Bring me home, please. I watched enough Desperate Housewives to know how to handle this on my own. Bless Lynette," I smiled evilly.
"Zoey, you naughty girl," Lisa laughed, but did as I told her.
Once I arrived at home, I made a beeline for the kitchen and retrieved peanut butter and a knife.
So far so good. My plan was to send Harry upstairs and then daub the peanut butter on the stairs so he would fall down, just like Lynette had done to Tom.
But I dismissed the idea. First of all, I would probably end up cleaning it. Secondly, Harry could seriously get hurt.
I ran around frantically in circles, deciding what to do next. Every trick I had ever seen on television was out of my limit, either because I didn't have the right material for it or it was too much of a risk.
Words were my best opinion, but an open fight wasn't what I wanted either.
A nice little revenge sounded way better, and it was more what girls like me would do.
I was reaching for my phone when I heard a car in front of the house.
In panic and confusion, I ran to my room and locked the door behind me, leaning against it with my back.
My first reaction was to push every item in my room in front of the door until I reminded myself that I was about to face Harry and not a serial killer.
Rage built up in me once again, mixed with the feeling of hurt and betrayal.
It wasn't just seeing him talking to her again, even after she had kissed him and somehow found a way into our lives. No, it was also the fact the he had been holding her freaking hand.
And maybe, just maybe, the pang of fear inside my chest, that I could lose him, was pushing me to the extreme, too.
I took a few deep breaths and unlocked the door. I would let him explain why he came back home later than usually.
If he said he had been at his apartment to retrieve some things, I would plan my revenge.
If he came clean, I would listen and decide whether to forgive him or still plan my revenge.
My last option was to run away screaming and hide until I die, but that was surely my least favorite option.
The opening of the front door was missing. I tiptoed to the kitchen only to see that no car was parked in our driveway, which meant I had just heard a car passing by.
All the fuss for nothing, great.
The doorbell rang. I sprinted away to answer it, only to find a postman awaiting me.
"I have a delivery for Ms. Newman," he announced, holding up a small package.
"That's my neighbor," I told him.
"She won't open. Can you take this package?" The man looked grumpy and clearly expected me to say yes, so I did.
After he had thanked me - quite politely, might I add -, he turned around and walked back to his truck.
I curiously looked at the package to find a small sticker saying 'pharmacy.' Okay, then.
The seconds ticked by, the hands of the clock slowly dragged ahead, but nothing changed.
I was sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor, chocolate and biscuits surrounding me, and waited for Harry's arrival.
After I finished my second bag of Hershey kisses, I opened up the cookies. Seven cookies and a beginning stomachache later, I heard a car pull up the driveway.
I quickly wiped my mouth and threw the empty bags away. The half-eaten cookie package was hidden in a cupboard again, when the rustling of keys sounded.
Looking left and right and trying to find a spot to hide, I ran over to the kitchen table and sat down on a chair, crossing my left leg over my right one and impatiently tipping my fingernails on the table's surface.
The sound echoed out to the front door, tipping Harry off about my whereabouts. "Zoey?" He called out. Soon his footsteps followed, bringing him over to the kitchen where he could hear me.
Anger and jealousy was punched right out of me when I saw his angelic face pecking around the corner.
Damn him, I couldn't even stay mad for more than five minutes.
That realization ignited my rage once more, and I mustered up the hardest glare I could bring on my face.
Harry stopped dead in his tracks, a black leather jacket clenched tightly in his left fist. I admired his cross tattoo for a second, but then ripped my eyes away from his hand.
"What's wrong?" He asked softly.
I had to change my game. With a softer voice than I had originally intended to use, and a much softer expression in my eyes, I asked, "Where have you been?"
Harry hesitated for a moment, scanning my face for any clue. "Someone kept me up."
Ah, so he was going for the truth. "Who?"
"Just a kid, don't worry about it." He gave me a small smile, and if I didn't know any better, I wouldn't have doubted it for a second.
"Okay." My voice was barely above a whisper.
I swiftly stood up and walked over to a cupboard, catching a box of breadcrumbs. "I'll make dinner."
"Do you need any help?"
"No," I replied. "Just sit down on the couch and relax for a bit."
I had no idea what had come over me, but at least I had some time to prepare what I would say to him now.
After some old family receipt - or rather the help of the instructions on the package - I made Schnitzel and potatoes au gratin, plus a bowl of green salad.
Dinner looked fancy and I was more than proud of myself. Smiling brightly and calling for Harry to join me, I didn't leap up when he put one arm around my waist and kissed me on the cheek.
I heard his barely audible outlet of air, telling me he relaxed when he saw my normal reaction to his intimacy.
But if he sought shelter for himself, he wouldn't find it any time soon. I was a ticking bomb, but food surely calmed my nerves.
Who was I even trying to convince? I could probably only keep up the mad facade until Harry pointed it out and called me out on my bullshit.
That bastard knew just how to push all my right buttons. A fight really wasn't anything I was seeking, but his obvious lie hurt more than I let show.
Several attempts at starting conversation were Harry's input, but my short and blunt replies didn't help at all.
After telling me a story about that young girl named Lux, which received not even the blink of an eye from me, Harry gave up and put down his fork.
"Are you going to tell me what's wrong or do I have to guess until I may accidentally trip over the problem?" His tone was serious and he expectantly tipped the grip of his knife.
"That's an excellent idea," I said in a honey-sweet voice and a big fake smile.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Seriously, Zoey? How old are you?"
"Too young for you apparently, you seem to be into older women." I munched on the meat, having lost my appetite.
Creases formed on his forehead. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"That was my first clue. Now good luck trying to figure out the main problem." I broke our eye contact and put a few potatoes on my fork, raising it slowly to my mouth.
Harry was fuming, his eyes narrowed, but no words escaped his soft lips. He bit the inside of his cheek and I could see the wheels turning in his mind, but the perspicuous glint in his eyes was still missing.
My eyes stayed focus on the food in front of me, but my stomach turned at the sight. I had long lost my appetite and only wanted to take a hot bath and sleep until the image had left my mind.
As if he was sharing my feelings, Harry pushed his plate away from him and put down his cutlery. With a much softer expression, and still a little frown, he waited for me to meet his intense gaze.
"Zoey, don't be ridiculous. You know we can talk about anything," he told me, his voice just above a whisper.
Conflicted feelings flowed through my body, starting as a hot roll somewhere in my chest and ending in an icy touch at the tip of my toes.
He was right. Damn sure, he was. I was fully aware of my ridiculous behavior, but frankly, I didn't care.
I was in fear of losing him to a woman I barely knew, while he wasn't even aware of it. To be completely honest, I wouldn't be too surprised if her fiancé was just a part of her imagination to keep up her flawless act of an innocent girl.
Men were so damn oblivious. But this was a fight I wasn't willing to lose. Even if I had to play dirty, I wouldn't stop for anything until I had no more to give.
"Tell me again who kept you up?" I asked with a snarl, my voice far too low and threatening.
Harry blinked at me, confusion and surprise written across his face. He opened his mouth to answer, but only let his tongue wet his lips, from one corner to the other.
"Well?" I dug deeper, raising an eyebrow and crossing my hands in front of my face, leaning my chin on them while holding my arms up on my elbows.
A sigh escaped his lips, and he momentarily closed his eyes. After recollecting his thoughts, he opened those burning green eyes that pierced a hole right through my soul. "Amelie."
I sucked in a harsh breath. Although this was old news to me, it still stung to hear him admit it. Until this very moment I hadn't even realized how much I had hoped he would tell me it was all in my mind.
"Amelie," I repeated, trying my hardest to keep any emotion from my voice and face.
"You already know, don't you?" Harry asked, ruffling a hand through his unruly hair, while waiting for confirmation of something he already knew the answer to.
"That you're going behind my back to meet her?" I asked, a sinister smile playing on my lips.
"It's not-"
"- what it looks like? Seriously?" I asked in disbelief, shocked he even went there.
"Would you let me explain?" Harry interjected, a frown etched on his beautiful face.
Mixed feelings hushed over his face, some I could catch, and some I couldn't. I was taken aback by the intensity of his gaze on me, still not used to the effect those pale green eyes had on me, even after all this time.
"You're not doing much explaining," I chuckled without humor. I tried my hardest to focus on the negative feelings my heart was suddenly fighting. I wouldn't cave in now, even if my insides were screaming at me to just kiss those soft lips.
"I went to Starbucks after work to get us some drinks," Harry started, holding my gaze, "when I saw Amelie sitting all by herself at a table. Her eyes were red and she was constantly sniffing."
"Aw, poor damsel in distress," I huffed, leaning back in my chair to cross my arms in front of me.
"Shut it, would ya?" He was getting angry now, which slightly entertained me.
I motioned for him to continue, childishly pretending to zip my lips shut and throwing the key away.
"I walked up to her to see if she was alright and she told me she had a huge fight with her fiancé." Harry shook his head slowly, as if to clear his thoughts. "She was really hurt so I stayed with her for a bit to cheer her up."
"And at which part did you decide to hold hands like a lovesick couple?" I sneered.
Harry's jaw fell open, his mouth formed a perfect little 'o' and his eyes widened in shock.
I grinned smugly at him. "Gotcha. Didn't think I would see, huh?"
Suddenly, I felt like I wasn't being so irrational after all. Maybe, just maybe Lisa was right. I have seen it in movies: girls were too caught up in their boyfriends to realize what was really going on, but I denied the possibility that I could be one of them.
I wasn't blinded by love after all.
"Zoey, that's completely bullshit." Harry's voice raised slightly at the end.
"Oh, is it?" I shouted, taking him by surprise. The chair creaked against the floor when I pushed it away from the table with the back of my legs, using far more force than necessary to push myself off. I leaned across the table and lowered my gaze on Harry, the air around us cooling off drastically.
Harry mirrored my actions within seconds. Our faces were close to each other's, only an inch separating us. We had an intense matching duel, neither of us daring to back down.
Not knowing where exactly we went wrong and how things escalated so easily, it felt like we were in a different world, where only our negative thoughts and emotions had space to breathe.
The ringing of the front door made me jump back, breaking our togetherness.
Even though it was the front door to my home, Harry started to walk towards it as well. Picking up my pace, I brushed against his shoulders when I walked past him, meaningfully ignoring him.
The door flew open and I pushed every emotion off my face.
"Hi Zoey, I got a note saying you accepted my package?" Ms. Newman asked with a friendly smile, holding the yellow note up as evidence.
I blinked twice to remember what she was talking about. Without a word, I turned around and picked up the small package that was still parked in the hallway. Ignoring her friendly attitude, I pushed the package into her hands and slammed the door in her face, not concerned what she would think about me now.
"Glad to see I'm not the only one you're being rude to," Harry remarked from the living room.
I turned around to find him leaning against the frame, a smug grin on his lips.
His words unraveled me and sent a feeling through my chest, so strong I was certain I'd burst any moment. Without thinking, I walked up to him and punched his jaw as hard and forcefully as I could.
His head turned to the side and his eyes widened in surprise, surely taken aback by my sudden outburst. I didn't waste another second in walking off to my room, slamming the door behind me and turning the key in the lock to keep him out.
Only seconds later did I hear his footsteps echo through the hallway. Right in front of my room, they stopped.
The door handle went down, but nothing else happened. After jiggling, Harry pounded against the wood. "Zoey, open the fucking door."
"Leave. Me. Alone," I screamed, so loud I was sure the neighbors could hear it.
"You're seriously going crazy if you think there is anything going on between Amelie and me! I don't even know that woman, and I genuinely don't want to!" Harry yelled, his fists still pounding against my door. I was afraid he'd break it.
"Go to hell." The words didn't come out as strong as I had intended them to, sounding rather as a suggestion than an order.
"You're the only one I want and need in my life, Zoey, you need to believe me. I love you too much to let you go." Vulnerability and hurt laced his voice, but it was still not enough to make me open the door.
I bit my tongue to keep from crying, the heat of the moment having long left my system. I was exhausted and only wanted to sleep until I could wake up to Harry lying next to me and seeing that everything was how it was supposed to be.
But the continuing pounding on the door, the pleas and screams ringing in my ears and the ache in my heart told me this was the harsh reality.
I grabbed my iPod from my desk and put the earphones in. Turning up the volume to the highest level and letting the music take over me, I plopped down on my bed.
Finally free of Harry's audible attempts, I drowned the world around me out, until I knew there was no going back.
It wasn't the end, and there was more to come, but for now I was relieved I hadn't broken down so quickly. With another deep breath, I felt the need to cry escape me, leaving me in a silent, yet painfully loud, ignorance.
Through the change of songs, I could hear Harry's words fade away, until even he had given up.
With the last sense of my mind I cursed Amelie's existence before slipping off into an unquiet slumber.
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if you like my work, please make sure to check out my other fanfiction called 'The Soul Catcher' :)