I tried to get rid of them. He left so many hoodies and T-shirts. In the beginning, I couldn't even bear to stop wearing them.
But once I did, I got rid of all of them at once. I dropped them off at the nearest goodwill.
"These are all men's T-shirts and hoodies," I said, handing the employee the box. She opened it and sifted through it for a moment.
"They look like they are in a moderate quality. Thank you for your donation," she hurriedly tossed the box under the counter.
I thought I'd feel better, letting them go. But my heart seemed to finally split in two. He was gone.
Why was I so upset?
"Miss?" The employee asked. I snapped back into reality.
"Have a nice day," I mutter out before rushing back to my car. I got in and started the engine, letting the music from the radio blast my thoughts away like a battering ram.
********************
I grit my teeth and looked at my lap. Of course, no introductions were needed. With a brief greeting, they were already sitting down at the dinner table. My dinner table. That I ate my meals at.
She could have told me. Is it that hard to warn me? Sneakily I look at my phone. SOomany missed notifications. I guess she did warn me. I open my home screen to realize none of the messages were from her, but they were all from Atticus. He tried to warn me.
"I was expecting a little more enthusiasm from you, Isabella," My mother said, tucking the back of her dress under her as she sat down. Yes, because sitting at a table with your ex-boyfriend and his father, who she is currently dating is a thought that would cause me so much joy.
"Why?" I ask, grabbing my plate and serving myself some food.
"Well it's no secret you and Atticus were a thing a while back," she started, grabbing a spoon of her own, placing a neat pile of food on her pristine plate. I resisted the urge to glare at her. "I just thought you two might be able to reconnect as friends. You never have Chase over anymore Isabella," Atticus' father watched our stiff interaction. It was like I was the guest at my own home.
My home.
"You know nothing about my social life," I said with as little malice I could register, "I see Chase at school. Plus he's been busy with his own life," I say defensively. She never liked Chase. The only people she really liked were Lydia and Atticus. What a coincidence.
"I know you have that new boyfriend," she says, putting a plate together for Atticus' father. I wanted to cuss him out in my head. Call him a baby. He's a grown man and he can get his own goddamn food!
But I mean, I'm baby so I guess I can't judge too much.
"Cole," I say with a bittersweet smile. Atticus looked at his lap for the entire encounter.
"To be honest I can't see that working out," she says, stabbing a bit of food with her fork. I clench the knife in my hand and resist the urge to stab my own hand.
"To be honest I can't see you two working out either," I spat, my toes clenching.
"Don't speak to your mother like that," Atticus' father said reprimandingly. I looked up at him. His hair was graying at the top. That ashy blonde color looked dull. He looked nothing like the time I first met him, "What has gotten into you? You've never acted this cold to me and my family before."
I want to laugh. What had gotten into me? Me?
"Don't talk to me like you're my father," I say, uncurling and curling my toes.
"For all you know, that might happen," he mutters. I see my mother tense beside me and look at her lap. I even see her smile.
"over my dead body," I say louder than I meant to. My mother looks at me, her face shocked. I bite my cheeks and feel regret fill my head.
"We don't speak like that in this household," she scolds.
I begin to eat my food silently, as Atticus was doing this entire conversation.
"So, Atticus how have you been?" My mother asks, breaking the silent tension in the air.
"As best as I can," he says spearing a chunk of meat with his fork.
"You make it sound like you've got it all so bad, son," Atticus' father said condescendingly.
"I'm sorry, father," he says, his face blank. He looks anything but sorry.
"Well, I hope you're doing well. Aren't you in the musical as well?" My mother asks. He nods with no further explanation.
"Why are you two so stiff? Especially you, Isabella?" She finally asks. I want to throw my plate across the room.
But before I can answer, Atticus pipes up.
"Because having dinner with her ex-boyfriendn and his father is very weird," he says, sitting up straighter. His father shoots him a glare and he looks at his plate again.
"You're being dramatic," he reprimands.
"No, he got it right," I say, kicking his foot underneath the table gently. If he felt it he didn't show it.
"I organized this dinner so we can all get along. Not argue," my mother almost whined. I could hear the inspiration in her voice.
Of course, I wanted her to be happy. I loved her. I love her. But this wasn't the way to treat me or herself.
I felt myself falling into her footsteps. I know losing my father to the great unknown hurt her. It, in her words, was worse than death. He chose to leave. Death didn't take him away. He shoved us away like trash.
I know what loneliness can do to your brain. It can lead you into the worst relationships possible. And that's what it has done for her.
And I know that there is no way to tell her that gently.
Gentle isn't going to work.
"I know. But sadly, I don't think that's going to work," I said, wiping my face with my napkin.
"Where do you think you're going?" my mother asked as I got up. She grabbed my arm and looked me in the eyes. Her face fell as her thumb ran across the rough, scarred, skin.
"I'm uncomfortable," I say simply.
"Sit back down," Atticus' father demands. My heart rate picks up as I turn back to him. his eyes were darkening. I knew that look.
"Why is this so uncomfortable for you?" My mother asks. I want to tell her so bac. I want to scream it so the whole room, house, neighborhood, the world can hear it. I want to tell her that she knows why. And she didn't believe me.
But I couldn't. He did terrible things to me, but self-guilt was all I could bestow upon him.
"This is unnecessary. Sit down and finish this amazing dinner your mother took hours to make," he demanded, his voice cold, dripping with venom.
my legs moved and I was back in my chair. There was no way I could escape this one.
"There. Was that so bad?" he asked. He was mocking me now.
"Don't speak to me that way," I whisper, pushing my plate up gently. I wasn't hungry anymore.
"Finish your food," my mother reprimanded again.
It was too much. My head was spinning. I needed out.
"Can't you see how pale she is? Just let her go," Atticus piped up. His tone was gentle. Persuasive.
"Is it really that bad to sit with your ex-boyfriend? Awkward I understand, but this is just so over-dramatic-" my moms started.
Atticus stood up abruptly and interrupted her, "Yes, I bet sitting with her abuser is absolutely unbearable!" he thundered.
The entire room went silent
"Her what?" she finally had the courage to say.
"Do you want me to elaborate?" he asked, his voice hard. His father's hand rose, probably to smack the back of his head, something had seen him do before, But he moved out of the way.
"You mean..." her face paled and she looked at me. It was that I realized I was standing up with Atticus.
"I-" she cut herself off, "I-,"
"You called me a liar," I swallowed, "an actress," I shook my head and motioned toward Atticus' father and his nearly full plate, "and this man, when his son openly states abusing his ex-girlfriend," he turned toward me as well, "isn't even shocked."
It was true. His face hadn't changed and he was eating.
"This must be a misunderstanding," she said, letting out a nervous chuckle., "You two must have set this up, or something. There is no way," she looked at Atticus' father, "Charles?"
He wiped his mouth and swallowed, "I wouldn't worry about it much, dear. Both of them are bratty children. I think they want t break us up," he says, casting a paternal look, "I don't think Isabella is over losing her father," he turned to Atticus, " and I know he has never been a fan of his mother and I splitting. Moving back here with his mother has been messing with his brain." he said calmly.
My head felt like it was about to explode.
"Mom, wake up!" I yelled, "wake up before you're too deep asleep that you can't!"
"Isabella," her eyes were pleading with me. She wanted this. She wanted this badly.
"I'm not going to let you mess someone else up!" Atticus explodes. I am taken aback.
"Atticus I swear if you raise your voice at me one more time-"
"What?! What is worse than what you've already done!" he yelled, his voice radiating through my head. he hadn't even ever yelled at me like that.
"I've never done anything to-"
Atticus interrupted him again, "You've taken Mom down, me down, and that caused me to take Isabella down with me. I'm not letting this happen again. No more," he said, his voice shaky.
"Get out of here," Charles demanded, rising from the table.
"Charles-" My mother went to stop him.
"He was disrespecting me, you, and your daughter!" he said.
Before anything else could be said, Atticus left, his face blank. he grabbed his coat and walked out of the kitchen.
A few seconds later, I followed suit, the argument between my mom and his dad left behind in the pristine kitchen, the food still warm on the table.
I saw the front door open and walked toward it shakily.
Was I nervous?
Yes.
Was I afraid?
No.
I opened the door wider and saw him sitting on the porch steps a few yards from me. I opened up the screen door with a long stretching sound and stepped onto the wide, wooden porch. I hadn't cleaned it in a while and mold was growing around the edges.
I walked over to where he was sitting and sat on the cool wood. He kept looking ahead, his head in his hands.
"Are you okay?" I ask. My instinct is to reach out, to embrace him. But I know I can't.
"No," he says honestly. He shifts and the lining on his jacket swishes.
"I owe you an apology," he says, still looking forward.
I swallow and nod.
"Thank you," I whisper, unsure of what else to say.
"After they split," He started, "I was upset. You saw me start to fall. He put a lock on my bank account. He was the only one able to use that money. And he spent it all. Now I can't leave. I have nowhere to go," he let out a chuckle and I grimaced. That sounded terrible.
"He started getting really upset over little things. And I was the one he was taking his anger out on. That's when I started..." he finally turned his eyes toward me.
I don't know what I was expecting them to look like. I hadn't stared into them for a long time. I thought his eyes might be watery, or drooping, but they were wide, alert.
"When I started doing what I did to you," he shook his hand and clutched it to his heart.
"What I did to you was one of the worst things anyone can ever do to their significant other. And I hate myself for it," he replied.
*******************
SORRY FOR THE ABRUPT ENDING
there is too much to punch into this chapter.
You'll have to review it before the next chapter.
Sorry,
Love ya,
Isabella. ; )
FOLLOW MY AGE REGRESSION INSTA!!! beebo_beebs
FOLLOW MY AGE REGRESSION INSTA!!! beebo_beebs
FOLLOW MY AGE REGRESSION INSTA!!! beebo_beebs
FOLLOW MY AGE REGRESSION INSTA!!! beebo_beebs
FOLLOW MY AGE REGRESSION INSTA!!! beebo_beebs