Status: Back in action!! I am currently writing more chapters, so be on the lookout!
A Little More Personal
One Last Fight
John was passed out on the couch when I entered the house. I slammed the door and watched as he jerked awake. His eyes widened.
"Taresa, you're home. I'm so sorry."
"Sorry enough to create a profile on a dating site?"
"What are you talking about? That's ridiculous."
"Whatever."
"What. . . What are you doing?"
"I'm leaving."
"But you just got home. Don't you want to talk about this so we can fix this?"
I stopped pulling clothes from the old dresser John's grandfather had made almost forty years previous; I stared at my fiance. "Maybe I don't want to fix this."
"Taresa, don't throw my words in my face."
"I'm serious. I'm done trying, John. No matter what I do for you, you don't even notice it. You don't appreciate it. So why try anymore?"
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying . . . Maybe our relationship is dead."
"Of course it isn't. I love you, Reece. Please don't leave."
"You may love me, John, but it's obviously not enough to keep you around. I'm not going to let my heart get broken anymore."
'I won't break your heart."
"You say that all the time," I screamed, throwing the shirts in my hand onto the bed. "Yet you never fail to cause me pain. You always do what you want. You always hurt me, John. Sometimes, I lay awake at night and pray you would just hit me. Physical pain is easier than dealing with the heartbreak you cause."
"Reece, baby---"
"Don't. I'm not your baby. I gotta go. Good-bye, John."
"Please don't leave."
"Why not? You always do."
"I come back, though."
"Well, I'm not going to. We're over."
I left him standing inour his bedroom, staring after me as I walked out of the little house we'd bought together, lived in together, and made love in multiple times. The pale blue walls on the outside were worn, and the wood porch sagged. Paint was peeling on the white shutters. The flowers in front of the windows had wilted in their planters; they were dead, much like the relationship John and I had shared.
"Taresa, you're home. I'm so sorry."
"Sorry enough to create a profile on a dating site?"
"What are you talking about? That's ridiculous."
"Whatever."
"What. . . What are you doing?"
"I'm leaving."
"But you just got home. Don't you want to talk about this so we can fix this?"
I stopped pulling clothes from the old dresser John's grandfather had made almost forty years previous; I stared at my fiance. "Maybe I don't want to fix this."
"Taresa, don't throw my words in my face."
"I'm serious. I'm done trying, John. No matter what I do for you, you don't even notice it. You don't appreciate it. So why try anymore?"
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying . . . Maybe our relationship is dead."
"Of course it isn't. I love you, Reece. Please don't leave."
"You may love me, John, but it's obviously not enough to keep you around. I'm not going to let my heart get broken anymore."
'I won't break your heart."
"You say that all the time," I screamed, throwing the shirts in my hand onto the bed. "Yet you never fail to cause me pain. You always do what you want. You always hurt me, John. Sometimes, I lay awake at night and pray you would just hit me. Physical pain is easier than dealing with the heartbreak you cause."
"Reece, baby---"
"Don't. I'm not your baby. I gotta go. Good-bye, John."
"Please don't leave."
"Why not? You always do."
"I come back, though."
"Well, I'm not going to. We're over."
I left him standing inour his bedroom, staring after me as I walked out of the little house we'd bought together, lived in together, and made love in multiple times. The pale blue walls on the outside were worn, and the wood porch sagged. Paint was peeling on the white shutters. The flowers in front of the windows had wilted in their planters; they were dead, much like the relationship John and I had shared.