Chapter 6.
He didn't push me away like I thought he would. His response to the kiss was fast and impulsive.
I tighten my arms around his neck and stroke the nape of his neck as his lips soften against mine.
He drinks me like I'm an intoxicating wine and the kiss completely obliterates my senses. He brings his hands up and slides them through my dark hair, causing my hairpins to fall to the ground and my hair to tumble to the side.
The adrenaline rushing through my blood completely slows down as our tongues continue to meet. I love this feeling, the feeling of finally getting back at Tony... but, at the same time, it hurts. Getting back at him won't solve everything, but I know exactly what will and the thought of it makes a tear slip down my mascara-stained eye.
I don't know what's happening anymore, so I open my eyes and see Tony dragging the guy off me and attacking his face with punches. People are already gathered around us and many of them have their phones up on video to capture every moment.
I can't see Jim nor Jacqueline.
"You son of a bitch!" a very livid Tony booms, as he continues to rain punches on the guy's face. If this goes on any longer, Tony will probably have to go to jail for murder.
"Stop it, would you?!" I yell and push him off the guy. I wince when I see the guy's face completely battered and bruised. He looks taller and more muscular than Tony, yet he wouldn't even throw back a punch. I don't know if that's courtesy or just plain stupidity.
"You're coming with me." Tony grabs my wrists forcefully, but I yank it out of his grip almost immediately.
He gives me a death glare and scoffs."You already have some guts, don't you? What has that lowlife been filling your head with?"
"Leave Jim out of this," I warn, "This is between me and you, you unfaithful asswipe."
The guy I spontaneously kissed turns to me slightly sarcastically. "Uh... I'm fine, you know, thanks for asking." He struggles slightly as he gets to his feet.
"Bullshit," says Tony, shaking his head. "You saw this coming from the moment you brought up that stupid celibacy rule."
The murmurs grow louder and I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling a migraine coming on.
Tony continues. "You should feel lucky I was able to put up with you all these years. You weren't enough for me and you never will be. I'm over this shit. Why do you keep acting innocent when I'm the real victim here?"
I can't believe this. He's turning the tables around and trying to make me feel guilty for his stupid actions. He's manipulated me all these years into thinking he's the only person for me, into thinking that no one would ever truly love someone like me. But now I realise that he's toxic and I'm putting this to an end, all the quarrels, all the fights, all the-
"You know what else is over?" With shaky hands, I fumble with our engagement ring on my left finger and hold it up for Tony to see. "Us." I throw it to the floor, crushing it with my boots, not caring where it ends up or how much it cost. "I'm 'not enough', you say? Fine. Find someone else who can satisfy your sexual needs... but let me warn you, Tony, you will regret this."
Tony laughs, cold and harsh and sarcastic. "You can't leave me. You know you can't. No one wants you." His words slice through me like a sword, and my pain must show on my expression because he smirks.
There's a short silence. Then the guy I kissed speaks up. "Um... When will someone acknowledge the fact that I have just been harassed?" He aims the question at me and I lose it.
"Shut the fuck up!" Both Tony and I lash out at him as he throws his head back in shock.
"Anyway, let's see about the leaving thing. I can leave you and I will. You'll see." I turn back to Tony and, with one last glare, I turn in the opposite direction and push my way out of the crowd, emerging in the chilly night outside.
It's still bright outside because of the already-lit streetlights. The reflection of their light on my glasses, however, is too bright for my eyes and I throw my glasses across the tarred floor as I stagger through the streets. My legs are getting weaker by the moment and so is my heartbeat. I take in shaky breaths.
You didn't pass out when you drank eight shots of tequila. You can't pass out now.
My loosened hair keeps sticking to my sweat-stained face like glue, but I don't bother to push it off. Like a carousel, the ground underneath me spins so fast that I lose balance for a moment.
I need to get out of here fast.
But I don't get very far before someone yelling in French causes me to stop on my tracks. The next thing I know, I'm being grabbed by the arm and spun around.
"What the Hell are you doing, walking alone in the streets, without your glasses on!" I recognize Jim's voice immediately but my throat feels too sore to reply. When he next speaks, his voice is softer. "Have you been crying?"
I wish I was able to force some words out of my mouth but, before I can comprehend anything else, I pass out.
*****
They say a breakup is good when you're trying to get over a heartache... But that doesn't seem to be the case for me.
Jim's sofa bed and I have become better friends than ever because we never leave each other's side. The day after the overwhelming panic attack at the club, Jim forced the shit out of me to tell me why I looked like a mess and I told him everything; including the kissing part.
He didn't even allow me finish the story before he charged out of the house, not even pausing to tell me where he was going. I did, at least, eventually learn where he'd gone; About an hour later, Tony texted me saying that I have a barbarian as a friend. Also, he burnt all my remaining clothes in his house and told me I should never come back.
I've been depressed before - multiple times, in fact - but not this much. I don't sleep anymore.
Instead, I run on coffee and depression and anxiety. It kills you slowly inside, until you become something inhuman that vaguely resembles a member of the walking dead. It doesn't go away. It never does.
Now I can't even call out his name without feeling a pang of distress.
Every time I go outside, I remember the places we used to go and I can't help but feel a little bit more heartbroken. The memories come rushing back like the waves of a sea, drowning me mercilessly till I can no longer breathe.
I snuggle into the sofa bed and pull the quilt over my face, squeezing my eyes shut and praying for some sleep. When I'm asleep, nothing bad happens and even the pain is forced to lessen.
*****
(Two days later)
I've come to understand that depression has certain stages.
I've become very accustomed to them and, according to my analysis, I'm still in the first stage: denial and anger.
Denial, at least, is fairly short-lived when it comes to depression. After all, the feeling of intense sadness can be difficult to ignore.
Some days, when I start denying my problems, I feel as though I have to overcome them on my own. I feel like I have no choice.
But Jim never lets me overcome it all by myself. He's always there.
Much more intense are the feelings of anger. You may feel the anger, for instance, and see no way out of it.
I've gone into the phase of "why me?" and wanting to fight an inner demon that, in reality, is just another version of myself.
Moving into the next stage of depression may take a while, so maybe I'll be stuck in this phase for weeks.
*****
(A day later)
I feel the sofa bed compress underneath me as someone strokes my hair gently. Normally, I would've assumed it was Jacqueline, but the hand feels masculine so it's definitely Jim.
"I know you're awake," he says, but I don't reply because I'm not in the mood to talk. "You don't have to be like this, you know?" I still don't reply, but he continues anyway.
"Remember what I told you when we went to that frat party in college and that redhead called you fat, then you ran off into the toilet?"
My mind suddenly goes back to when I attended my first ever - and last - frat party, during freshman year at college. I got tipsy and mistakenly spilled my drink all over some girl's white shirt. Much to my embarrassment, she totally lost it and started yelling at me in front of everyone.
Public humiliations are... kind of not my thing. So, like the coward I was and still am, I ran off and locked myself in the restroom. Those kinds of memories are hard to forget.
"I told you people would always want to make you feel low, just because you're better than them, but you just have to keep your head high and your middle finger higher."
That's Jim's motto for me... but it never seems to work.
"It's okay to make mistakes," he continues, "Everyone makes mistakes, you just have to put your pieces back together and move on. It's not the end of the world, April." There's a pregnant pause before he continues again, knowing I'm not going to say anything until he leaves.
"Talk to me whenever you feel like it. I'm just one room away." I feel the sofa decompress again as he stands, hear him close his room door behind him. I'm left alone again, so I do what I do every night.
I cry. I cry. I cry.