L O V I N G
L A K Y N
I WIPED MY tears away for the millionth time tonight, all previous effects received from that intoxicating bottle of vodka were completely gone, leaving me with an uneasy stomach, a messy mind, and an excruciatingly painful feeling in my chest.
I had been through much in such a short amount of time. Every year since birth led up to my mother dying, and as unfortunate as it sounds, I am glad that I do not have to walk on eggshells constantly anymore. After her death, I fell into the arms of someone whom I loved deeply without knowing, and I knew that what I was starting would have to end eventually, but like all my actions thus far, I was selfish.
I knew the minute I saw him on top of that girl with the awful blue hair at the party, that I felt something toward him. I admit, the vast percentage of what I was feeling at that moment was jealousy, but I knew that I was better than her. And that is just the problem. Back then, despite being in such a low time in my life—though, it was just the calm before the storm—I knew my worth. I knew that even though I was suffering from an intense eating disorder, battling depression, I knew at the end of the day, that even though I was drowning in my own mental illnesses, I was worth something.
And ever since that night, I fought against falling for him because I knew that the day would come where one of us would hurt each other. I just never knew it would be both, but at least it was fair, I suppose.
My point is, ever since I did let myself love him truly, I have placed everything on him. All of my confidence, my happiness, depends on him. He just. . .god, he loved me so well, so deeply. So much that I did not care if all my weight was placed on him.
I am aware that he did not mean to hurt me, but I spent so much time allowing him to tell me what I can and cannot say to men, what I can wear without being stared at. It is two-thousand and twenty, for goodness sake, it is time that toxicity and misogynistic acts stop being romanticized. As a feminist, all I want is to be treated as an equal. I do not tell Lakyn to change nor do I storm over to him and claim my territory when he interacts with the opposing gender, yet he does not give me those rights.
I have tried to establish my feelings in a conversation, but he simply does not get it. And though it is an incredibly painful thing to do, leaving him is the best way that I can show him how I feel. Sometimes silence speaks more volumes than audible words ever could.
As I walked up the all too familiar driveway, I resisted the urge to just call him and beg him to take me back, though I am sure that no begging would be necessary, which is even more reason for me to do this. He needs to be okay without me. He needs to learn, to grow. To be the best version of himself.
I raised a fist, closing my eyes momentarily as I inhaled a deep breath, then my knuckles collided with the door.
I stepped back, suitcase lever in hand as I began to panic. Coming back here is the opposite of growth. In fact, coming back here is like taking a sharp turn and going straight back to the root of all my problems, but I had nowhere else to go. I was all alone.
The door flew open and I was met with Elaine's shocked expression. "Miss Hayes?" she replied, her tone stunned.
I offered her the faintest smile, sniffling. "Elaine." I nodded, giving her the respect that she deserves for once. "Is my father here?"
Elaine's mouth opened, but she did not get the time to respond as my father came into view, wearing his usual neat suit, his tie loosened around his collar. When he noticed me standing in the doorway, his expression turned cold. Stoic. He was probably unsure of what approach to take. I barely knew what approach to take, it is the biggest punch in the gut returning here, I am too stubborn for my own good and too self-righteous along with that.
Despite the blank expression on my father's face, I know for certain that he is oh so smug right now.
"He broke your heart, didn't he?" the words fell off his lips with ease, almost as though he had been preparing for this exact moment for so long.
I hung my head low, stepping past him, luggage still in hand, choosing not to answer as I made my way directly toward the stairs. "I won't bother you with my company for too long." I forced the words out. "I will be gone by tomorrow."
I did not even want to be here for one night, but Hale dropped me off at Lakyn's, and then when I called, he did not answer, so I presumed he was busy with Eden, because when I called her multiple times, she did not answer either.
Elaine rushed over to me out of habit, trying to assist with my things, but I did not allow her. I continued up the stairs, every step, every breath excruciating. Once I reached the top, I sighed. It felt good to be back. Not at my house in general, but my bedroom.
I pushed the door open, entering, and when I did, I burst into tears again. This house was tainted by such tragic memories, but this was my room. That desk I spent innumerable hours studying at, that bed that I spent every night dreaming in, that wardrobe which still holds all of my priceless clothing. Maybe this home was no longer mine, but this bedroom was the only place keeping me from everything bad as a child.
All the shouting, all the sirens, all the noise. I could just block it out once I closed that door.
If only it were that easy now.
I came to a holt at the foot of my bed, a tear rolling down my cheek as I pictured Lakyn and I laying beneath the covers together that night that my father had trapped me in my own house, our limbs entangled as we smiled though we were so far from okay.
I padded my way into the bathroom which was still spotless. When I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I almost gasped at how hideous I looked. Mascara smeared, the bridge of my nose and cheekbones red from the countless hours spent bathing in the sun. I was still wearing his hoodie, but it was soaking wet now from my also wet undergarments beneath.
I stared at my phone screen in my hand, no calls nor texts were present on the screen. Not except for the time, reading eleven-twelve PM, and a picture of Lakyn and I. We took it during lunch at school, it was a close up of the both of us, the sides of our faces smooched together as we grinned like two love-sick teenagers.
I let out a shaky breath as I unlocked my phone and pressed on the vibrant green icon with the phone symbol. There his name was with all of those cringey emojis that I put next to it.
For a short moment, my finger hovered over his name, but then I reminded myself of how pathetic I would appear if I did call him, so I saved myself the temptation and blocked his number instead, then turning my phone off and placing it down on the marbled surface of my sink.
I proceeded to continue with the reasoning for me walking in here in the first place, tugging his hoodie over my head and tossing it in the empty hamper, then sliding off the sandy items of clothing beneath it.
Once I was naked, I walked over to my enormous shower, and turned the faucet on. Once it was hot enough, I stepped in and closed the transparent door. I hated hot showers, but he loved them, so I kept the temperature high.
He loved a lot of things. I just wish that he could love himself. He may be cold, he may be rude, he may be broken, but as he said not too long ago. He has never been anything but shards of glass and bloodied knuckles. He has never had the chance to be soft, to be accepted. This is for him, so he can learn to be soft yet hard at the same time.
As I stepped beneath the showerhead, the steaming water droplets trickled down my body, burning my cold skin, but it felt good. It distracted me from this cold empty feeling apparent on the inside. I felt so hollow, like I was a house, but now no one is home, so I am just abandoned and vacant. But I abandoned him. I lost my home, and he lost his, so now my heart is punishing me because no one resides within me anymore.
I ran my fingers through my matted hair, allowing the clean filtered water to cleanse my scalp of all the sand, my limbs relaxing as let the warmth envelop me entirely.
The whole four-hour drive home I fantasized about this exact moment. Getting rid of every single speck of sand from my aching body. You would think that after four hours I would have dried off, but I did not. And I had zero time to change either.
Once Lakyn and I came to a mutual agreement to end things, I left the room with a heavy heart and no strength left within me. I left him behind, crying on the bed. I did not want to leave, especially because I was seeing him show his emotions for the first time in such a way, but if I did not walk away, I would hold that beautiful face of his and kiss every inch of the pain away.
So, I left. I left him alone and closed the door, heading straight over to Eden and Hale's room. I knocked on the door and Hale opened the door. He held his arms wide open and I collapsed. He lifted me up and took me over to the bed where I sat and cried in his arms for what felt like hours, but in reality, was only twenty minutes, more or less.
Eden took the courtesy of handling Lakyn as Hale's hands were full, literally. That, and I believe he was still mad at him for accidentally making Eden fall over.
Originally, we were going to miss school on Monday and head home early that morning, but after the events of tonight, Hale made the decision for everyone and we decided to go home. So, Eden packed my things for me and spoke to Lakyn, then we locked the house up and got back on the road.
Eden and Lakyn sat in the back and I sat in the front with Hale. I thought I knew what it was like to be in an awkward situation, but it seems as I truly had no idea because those four hours were so awkwardly painful, I contemplated jumping out of the car more times than I care to admit.
Hale dropped Lakyn and I off and I could not bear to go back inside. I knew that my things were everywhere, but I just needed to leave, so I did, because I seem to be a pro at the subject now.
I walked around that cold lake getting all of my tears and sobs out before I destroyed my dignity completely and came back here. The only reason that I came here is because I had nowhere else, and I thought that it would be better than sleeping on the side of the street, but now it seems as though the street would have been far nicer than here. This house just triggers my PTSD. I walk through the front door and all I see is her, at every corner, every turn, her lifeless body is there, staring back at me.
Once I had cleaned every inch of my body, I stepped out of the shower, wrapping one of the two fluffy white towels around me and using the other for my hair.
By the time that I was completely dry and in my pajamas, it had to be close to one in the morning, which just stressed me out because I knew that I had to be up in a matter of hours, so I got into bed, but I could not sleep. I tossed and I turned, but I just kept repeating tonight's events over and over like a broken record.
My mind would not cease to silence and I was driving myself mad, but I was so damn tired. As the clock struck two, I began to panic. I needed to sleep otherwise I will be a tiresome mess tomorrow. I will already be sad, I do not need to be drowsy on top of that.
Two hours later I heard birds chirping in the distance and my heart began to race as I knew that the awakening of birds meant that it was officially morning. I felt so pathetic because I knew the reason that I was not able to fall asleep was not because of my sadness, but because he was not next to me, his bare chest pressed to my back whilst his strong arms held me close.
Lakyn has trouble sleeping most nights, which is granted considering his insomnia, but there is one thing that helps him sleep. No, it is not the sound of my voice nor sex, but the simple act of my fingertips tracing his palms. I always make a point of going to bed before I am actually tired, so that I can make sure that he sleeps.
He opens his large hand and I use my index finger to trace along the three curved lines carved into his skin. I go up each finger and then when I reach his thumb, I go up and down it twice, because that is his most favorite part. Once he has had enough of that, he turns his hand around, so that I can repeat those actions on the opposite side of his hand, and on a good night, if I am lucky, he is asleep within the hour. On the hard nights. . .well, they are hard.
Some nights are so hard that I would lay there just wishing that he did not suffer. It would give me so much anxiety because I knew very well that though he loved me, I was not enough to take away his pain, but that is just life. I know that in modern-day entertainment, it is so common for two sad lonely individuals to come together and mend each other, but this is real life, and in real life, you do not fix someone, you do not fix yourself—especially when it is mental illness related—you just accept what is happening, and you learn to deal with it.
I would kill for Lakyn to be able to fall asleep like your average person just as he would kill for me to eat proper portion sizes but that is not realistic. Trauma causes people to do terrible self-destructive things in attempts of protecting themselves that only end up causing them more trauma in the end.
With the thought of him in mind, I continued to wonder. I bet he was suffering just as much as I was right now. I knew for a fact that he was in the exact saddened unable to sleep state that I currently was in.
I groaned out in annoyance, throwing my duvet off of my body as I placed my bare feet against the cold ground, yawning as I lazily walked over toward the double doors leading onto the balcony. It has always been my favorite part of my bedroom. In summer, I usually sleep with the doors open, leaving the sheer curtains closed allowing air in. I long for those hot summer nights. There is no school, no responsibilities. I wish that I could travel back in time to back then.
I grasped the two doorknobs, pushing the doors open, then stepping outside. It was getting warmer in Dayton Lakes, but still not over twenty degrees Celsius (sixty-eight Fahrenheit) but I liked it. It was a nice in between.
My palms wrapped around the chillingly cold railing as I peered over at the glassy lake. Such a beautiful sight. The dimly lit sky rose slowly among all of us, the stars saying goodbye as the early morning sky replaced their light with its own.
How on earth am I supposed to go to school today and act as though everything is fine? Nothing is. I can hold my head high, I am skilled at doing so, but he is my weakness. The moment that he enters the room my mask will fall and even the most oblivious people will notice that something is wrong between us. Why can I not just be okay?
Healing is not linear. One day I will be okay. Time is the virtue.
I could have the day off, I was going to anyway. But then I have to be stuck here, and even worse, alone. I would rather be distracted even if the distraction is repetitive school work.
Once I came to the obvious conclusion that sleep was not an answer tonight, I headed back inside to snatch my phone off my nightstand, then grabbing my blanket and sitting down on the two-seater outdoor sofa on my balcony, wrapping myself in the thick faux fur material.
I turned my phone back on and changed my lock screen and home screen. I did not delete any of our pictures because I am hoping that this space does us well, meaning that in the end—whenever that may be—we can get back together and all of our memories are not tarnished. But, in the meantime, I did not need any more reminders of what I no longer have.
I temporarily deleted all of my social media apps excluding Snapchat because that was my main form of communication with people, but as previously aforementioned, I did not need the temptation of contacting him, so I removed him as a contact.
My decision to remove most of my applications were not related to him, but me. I care too much about appearances and posting these images that make me seem so perfect, but alongside that thought, I pay too close attention to other people's lives knowing exactly how easy it is to seem above others just by taking several pictures. I need to remove that from my life for now.
Besides, I am a jealous ex-girlfriend and I will stalk him constantly. I hate to admit it, but I know myself and if I do not restrict myself, I will pay extra close attention to that freshman girl in his comments section or how he suddenly went up twenty followers. It sounds crazy, I am fully aware, but that is precisely why I am putting myself in social media jail. I will be released when my constant habit of comparing myself to others—and wanting to stalk Lakyn—goes away.
I hate the sound of that. Ex-girlfriend. I wish there could be a different title. Like, I do not know, person that needs space for personal reasons that are completely valid and mature, but then I suppose no one is willing to consider me that. It is too long. So, ex-girlfriend will do, but I know the truth.
The crisp morning breeze stole the warmth from my cheeks as I shivered, my wet tongue sliding over my chapped lips as I took in the beauty of the early morning. Though I was in a terrible state right now, I took the time to enjoy the view before me, for this would be the last time seeing it. I do not know where I end up staying, but if I can promise myself anything, it is that I never have to step foot in this house plagued by tragedy ever again.
The sun rose slowly, but before it could grant its sunrays, the thick grey clouds shielded it, making sure that everyone stays cold. The world is so awfully cruel. The universe bought two deprived souls together, only to tear them apart. Now the stars bleed for us, the moon dims, and even the sun cries.
The real question is, now what? I preached self-growth and self-love, but where is it that I begin? Clearly, the process will not be quick and sudden. Right now, and probably for weeks I will continue to be a grieving mess, so where do I start?
I suppose that is there is some unspoken step that I am missing, but if I did do the right thing by leaving him and if I truly need this—which I do—then I will figure it out without knowledge. But for now, I need to get up, have some coffee, and prepare for a lengthily, bland day of school.
I walked back into my bedroom and slowly began the process of getting ready. I am always up abnormally early for school, but never this early. At least I have extra time to perfect my appearance, not for others, but for myself.
Make-up is such a beautiful art form. So personalized. I have always been limited to what I can do with make-up due to my father's extreme judgment and the schools' awfully specific rules. I have always stuck to light concealer, mascara, lip balm, and the dot of pearlescent highlighter on the tip of my nose, but seeing as I have time, I may as well try something different.
You see, I have these big doe eyes, and I always hated them because they are so round, but as I grew older, I realized that their shape would suit eyeliner so well, I always felt as though liner would be too harsh on my appearance, but as I sat at my vanity and pulled out the top drawer, I grabbed the completely unused yet slightly dried up liquid eyeliner.
I drew a thin line across my eyelid, then adding a perfect thick wing to the end. I leant back in my chair slightly, staring at my first ever wing, and I loved it. It elongated my eyes and made my blue eyes stand out even more.
I continued on to do the next eye, then applying mascara, and adding a bright highlighter to my inner corners then on the bridge and tip of my nose, giving it an immediate button effect. Last but not least, I dotted a sheer concealer beneath my eyes, using a sponge to blend it into my skin, concealing my bags which were already making it more than apparent that I did not sleep last night.
I have always, up until this very day, done nothing different to my hair other than using a flat iron to straighten it, so I proceeded to curl it instead, using some heat-protectant spray and curling my hair in sections, my making them looser curls. Once I spent an hour perfecting each ringlet, I spritzed some hairspray and brushed through my hair gently.
Admittedly, I did prefer straight hair on myself, but it was good to see myself look different for once. Even I get sick of my own reflection sometimes. I did not want to go out and change everything about myself, but now that I am less restricted and more careless toward other people's opinions, I have more freedom, even if it is just something as silly as doing a thick wing for school, or adding extra highlighter.
As I grabbed my black headband, I contemplated between either ditching it or wearing it, but I was not willing enough to go that far out of my comfort zone. Though it is barely noticeable once on top of my head, it is my favorite accessory.
I walked into my wardrobe, thankful that I had several spare uniforms. I stood in front of the large mirror as I watching myself pull the plaid emerald skirt up my legs, securing it around my waist, before slipping into the white button-up and tucking it into the skirt, tying my tie, then slipping into my black stilettos, seeing as my usual ones were not here. But I think that I liked these ones more, the heel was thin, the strap securing around my ankle thin too. Something about it just looked more feminine and delicate.
It was entirely against the dress code to wear heels this high and unsecure, but I doubt that any teachers will have the guts to bring anything up about it.
I stared at my reflection for longer than usual. My eyes scanned the entirety of my body and I cringed. Those wide hips, my large eyes, my toothy smile. I hated all of it, I really did. Even my slim waist and my large bust, though those aspects met society's standards of beauty, I still hated it.
I was not in a good state right now meaning that I have every single right to not like what I am seeing, off days are okay. I could also choose like every other day, to follow what seems to be my life motto; 'fake it until you make it' but there is no faking. I hate what I see but rather than dwelling it, I am going to settle for the fact that I am going to improve myself. I am a healthy, living, breathing body, and sometimes that is enough.
Sometimes finding the beauty in something is not as simple as confining with what the exterior presents, but what the exterior does for the inside. As humans, we are made to believe that we are nothing but what is on the outside. Skin. Miles and miles of skin.
Skin that has been bruised, wounded, scarred. Skin that has been touched without consent. Skin that has been hurt. Skin that has been through so much all because others cannot appreciate it. And it hurts.
And for the person that I am today, I promise that I will try my hardest to learn to love you. I just need to remember how it feels to not hate what I see. I need to learn to look in the mirror and be in complete awe. I just need to remember what it was like before I told you that you were not enough. I buried you, each insult and destructive thought burying you further and further.
I buried you, so only I can bring you back to life.
I shared one last glance at my reflection before exiting my bedroom. My old bedroom. And heading downstairs, going through the living room and into the kitchen, where—to my surprise—Elaine stood at the stove, hand on the handle attached to the pan, her other hand resting on her hip.
The sound of me pulling the stool out startled her as the legs of the chair scraped across the ground as she turned to face me. "Good morning, Miss Hayes." I was unable to return the wide grin, so I settled for a curt nod.
I sat there quietly as I tapped my faux nails against the surface of the counter, making me realize that I was in desperate need of a manicure.
"You know," Elaine began to speak, keeping her eyes trained on the bacon fizzling and popping above the stove. "I was in love once."
I raised an eyebrow. "Once?" I repeated. I never knew that she was single, but that is on me because I never took the time to know her. "What happened?" I asked curiously, resting my chin on my hand, elbow propped on top of the counter.
"We weren't right for each other." was her simple answer. "It took us a long time to realize. He was struggling with his sexuality for years only for him to realize after having children and building a life, that it was not me that he did not love, but the gender that I withhold."
My jaw dropped. "Oh my god." I replied sympathetically. "That is terrible."
Not that it is her ex-lovers' fault in any shape or form, it still would be incredibly hard to lose someone you love and not be able to do anything about it. Knowing that they love you, but they could love you eternally if you had just been of the opposing gender.
She waved me off, her spirits still high. "Don't worry about it." she replied carelessly. "What I'm trying to say is that I know how you feel. You aren't alone."
Sometimes I feel like I am.
I nodded. "What made you realize that you were not right for each other?"
She offered me a brief glance, sensing my hesitance. "Some people are meant to fall in love with each other, but not be together." her words were soft, meaningful. "He was a lesson, as was I. If it were not for me, maybe he would have never come to terms with his sexuality."
What if that was us? What if we simply were not meant to be together?
"Don't worry, Miss Hayes." she noticed my discomfort. "You and Mr. Westbrook are right for each other." she spoke as though she could read the exact thoughts passing through my mind.
I raised an eyebrow as she switched off the stove and gathered two plates. "How do you know?"
Without missing a beat, she said: "Because I have seen first-hand how you two look at each other." she said, an unmissable smile appearing on her thin red lips. "That's something I wish I could have experienced at your age. That type of love that is unspoken, but everyone within miles can see it. You would be an idiot not to see it."
I smiled a smug smile. "A stare does not answer how we are right for each other."
Regardless, I knew exactly what she was speaking about. His eyes, they were so emotionless. Like the ice in Antarctica, but for me, they melted. It was so cliché, the hard eyes that only softened for one girl in particular. But it was true and I am sure that my eyes did the exact same for him.
Elaine rolled her eyes, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of orange juice. "The simple answer?" she looked at me and I waited patiently. "You just are."
I rolled my eyes as she placed a plate occupied by an egg and two strips of bacon, accompanied by a tall glass of orange juice. And she even remembered the straw. I refuse to drink anything without a straw.
Not having much of an appetite, I stabbed at the egg, watching as the yolk leaked out its vibrant orangey-yellow liquid.
"I hope so." I whispered, wanting the conversation to be over with already.
Elaine took the hint as my father entered the room and took the other plate, heading into the dining room to eat alone.
I was so grateful for her words, though I was not currently in much of a position to take any of it in. I had always been so cruel and subjective toward her solely because of her occupation, which is terrible, but it was just something that was forced into my head by my father at a young age. He always preached that she worked for us, so she is unworthy of respect, but I know better now and after actually taking the time to speak to her, I have more respect for her than ever.
I managed to eat the egg and half a strip of bacon, but I left the rest as I grabbed my bag and decided to head out. I had to ask for my keys back since my father had them and he was awfully reluctant to give them back to me.
God, I missed my car. It sounds so silly, but you always love something more when it is yours. I have not been able to drive anywhere in so long because Lakyn or Hale always did all of the driving.
I began the short drive to school but I drove under the speed limit the whole way because I felt sick and wanted nothing other than to turn around and go back home. Wherever that was.
Once I parked in my usual spot in the school parking lot, I sat alone in silence, panting as I panicked. How am I supposed to let go if he is here? Am I even supposed to let go? I think that I am, for now at least. Holding on will just hold the both of us back. God, I had so many unanswered questions.
I think that I don't know how to let go because when I stared into his green eyes, on either side of his little nose, I saw a forever.
And now everything else just looks like a temporary mess.
hi everyone!
i'm so sorry this chapter was more thought than dialogue but she just got her heart broken and i really just wanted to take the time to get her thoughts and emotions across.
please let me know what you thought of this chapter and how you as a reader feel toward the situation.
anyways, please make sure you vote, comment, and follow me, as well as read 'running for miles' by Gemma_Grace_ for eden's pov where she talks to lakyn about the situation.
with that being said, i love you all! see you soon ♡