Strawberries
It's Over.
Things have been going, I guess, well lately. I’ve been keeping a very close eye on you and you still haven’t gone out. In fact, you’ve hardly left the house. But I still go through your phone every day. I see you’ve called Rory twice, but I don’t question it much.
I’ve been avoiding you for the most part, though. I still can hardly bear to look at you - it still hurts. You keep trying to hug me and hold me, probably trying to show me you’re sorry, but I shove you away each time. Your touch just brings back memories.
“Nick, can you just talk to me? Please?” you ask me for the hundredth time this week, following me through the house. I walk into the bedroom, shutting the door, but you shove it open.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Joe. I don’t want to hear your excuse, okay? Just drop the subject.”
“Just listen to me!” you grab my arm. I freeze for a second and then pull away from you.
“No!”
“Fuck!” you scream, making me flinch. I see a pinkish blur, and then I feel your hand hit my cheek. “Just fucking listen to me!”
I step back, tears filling my eyes. You haven’t changed at all… you’ve just gotten better at hiding it. Your jaw falls open as I rub my cheek in shock, stepping away from you. It hurt, too. As if you screaming at me wasn’t enough. You stare at me when you realize your slip-up. But then you cover it up.
“N-Nick, I didn’t mean to… oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”
“No!” I yell. I should have never let you in my life. I should have kicked you out. You’re just going to hurt me again. “Get out! You haven’t fucking changed at all!”
“N- Nick! I di- didn’t mean to do that!”
“Get out!” I scream again.
“No! Nick, wait! I‘m sorry!”
No you’re not.
“No, Joe. I told you. You mess up and we’re done. I’m leaving.”
“W-what?”
I go to the closet and yank a travel bag out, going to my dresser and shoving clothes into the bag. “I’m leaving, Joe. I should have done this months ago.”
Your eyes widen. I avoid looking at your face; partly because I can’t bear to, and partly because I’m crying. You grab my shoulders and suddenly I’m terrified of you hurting me. I force myself out of your grip. “Don’t touch me!” I scream.
“Nick! Come back!” you yell after me, your tone more commanding than pleading. I run down the stairs, shaking my head. Grabbing my keys off the counter, I dash out the front door and start the car as quickly as I can.
It was all a lie. You never cared. I tear out of the driveway and head to a hotel.
I’ve been avoiding you for the most part, though. I still can hardly bear to look at you - it still hurts. You keep trying to hug me and hold me, probably trying to show me you’re sorry, but I shove you away each time. Your touch just brings back memories.
“Nick, can you just talk to me? Please?” you ask me for the hundredth time this week, following me through the house. I walk into the bedroom, shutting the door, but you shove it open.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Joe. I don’t want to hear your excuse, okay? Just drop the subject.”
“Just listen to me!” you grab my arm. I freeze for a second and then pull away from you.
“No!”
“Fuck!” you scream, making me flinch. I see a pinkish blur, and then I feel your hand hit my cheek. “Just fucking listen to me!”
I step back, tears filling my eyes. You haven’t changed at all… you’ve just gotten better at hiding it. Your jaw falls open as I rub my cheek in shock, stepping away from you. It hurt, too. As if you screaming at me wasn’t enough. You stare at me when you realize your slip-up. But then you cover it up.
“N-Nick, I didn’t mean to… oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”
“No!” I yell. I should have never let you in my life. I should have kicked you out. You’re just going to hurt me again. “Get out! You haven’t fucking changed at all!”
“N- Nick! I di- didn’t mean to do that!”
“Get out!” I scream again.
“No! Nick, wait! I‘m sorry!”
No you’re not.
“No, Joe. I told you. You mess up and we’re done. I’m leaving.”
“W-what?”
I go to the closet and yank a travel bag out, going to my dresser and shoving clothes into the bag. “I’m leaving, Joe. I should have done this months ago.”
Your eyes widen. I avoid looking at your face; partly because I can’t bear to, and partly because I’m crying. You grab my shoulders and suddenly I’m terrified of you hurting me. I force myself out of your grip. “Don’t touch me!” I scream.
“Nick! Come back!” you yell after me, your tone more commanding than pleading. I run down the stairs, shaking my head. Grabbing my keys off the counter, I dash out the front door and start the car as quickly as I can.
It was all a lie. You never cared. I tear out of the driveway and head to a hotel.