Because These Words Were Meant For You

It had been a week and I hadn’t heard anything from Dillon.
My wallet was about to go broke and I was barely surviving off candy bars and partially cooked Ramon noodle soup. The damn hotel bill kept going up every day more that I spent here, and my next door neighbors were more than getting on my nerves. I swear to god, if I hear one more “OH! Harder Anthony! Harder!” I will kill myself.
I will.
I had gotten text messages and phone calls from the girls every day. They constantly asked me where I was, where I was going to go, and when I was going to come home.
But I couldn’t honestly answer them straight up, so I didn’t. I just said that I was doing alright, that I’d be fine, and that I couldn’t come home.
That wasn’t my home anymore.
I couldn't go back.
And from what I had heard, it apparently wasn’t Nita’s and Jay’s either.
Nita was supposedly more than repulsed with Dillon, so she had opted to move out. And Jay wasn’t going to stay there if Nita wasn’t there, so of course he followed her right out the front door. Through the grapevine I found out that they were now staying with Johnny and Sarah.
That's gotta be a fun time.
Both of the girls were more than ready to defend me and beat up on Dillon. In fact, Sarah already had. Nita had sent me a text while the fight was going down; a full, in depth, one on one of exactly what was happening second by second. Right down to the point of how Dillon looked like a raccoon now, complete with two larger than life black eyes.
And though it was nice to know that Sarah loved me that much, it didn’t make me feel any better. It probably made me feel worse.
And it didn’t fix anything, so there wasn’t really a point. But I guess it made her feel better, and I have to admit that knowing he got his just deserts had made me smile for a split second.
Only a split second though, no longer.
Nita and Sarah were on my side, and the guys were on Dillon’s, so it broke up the entire group into two divisions. Nita and Jay were fighting, something that they hardly ever did. And Sarah had put Johnny on sex hiatus for backing Dillon up on the whole ‘partying with hookers’ thing.
I really couldn’t do anything right.
Him breaking up with me had caused more trouble than it should have. Looking back, I really should have just left, traveled far away, and stayed gone. But I was selfish. I had to keep in contact with the girls. I couldn’t let them go; they meant too much to me.
Now I was stuck in between my friends and their boyfriends and friends, causing more ruckus and chaos that should have never even been there in the first place.
It was causing more trouble than it was worth.
I checked the clock and it read two P.M. , so I figured it would be a good time to go check on the apartment. Surviving a week in basically the same outfit was not cutting it, and I severely needed my hygiene products and girly things.
I needed my stuff, really bad.
I shuffled into my black Abby Vans shoes and walked my way out of the hotel, storing the electronic key in my back jean pocket. It was hotter than hell in California today, the sun beating down on me as I slowly made my way back tomy old Dillon’s apartment. I didn’t think he’d be there, but you never know.
He was probably at the bar, yelling at the guys and drinking his life away. Just like he had been when I first met him.
But it was a possibility that he was at home, drinking his life away and yelling at the TV.
Key term here is ‘drinking his life away and yelling’ which is what he does when things aren’t perfect.
It’s what he always did.
I made my way up the stairs and stuck my eye into the little peep hole, not seeing anything but the kitchen counter, which was piled high with beer bottles and pizza boxes.
I pulled my phone out, sending a text message to Nita.
‘Do you know where Dillon is?’
About a minute later, I got a reply.
‘He’s with us. He’s talking Jay’s ear off, and I don’t even know what he’s saying.’
‘Thanks’
I sent the last message and tucked the phone back in my pocket, bending over to pull the key from within my shoe.
Pushing open the wooden door, I closed it behind me and slowly peered around the place. It looked pretty much the same, except dirtier and a lot more un-kept. Trying to rush, I forced the closet door in our room opened and searched for my backpack.
The homemade multicolor splatter painted Jansport black backpack was laying on the floor, my clothes thrown around it in a heap. I grabbed a bunch and shoved the articles of clothing into the large compartment of the bag, making my way into the bathroom. I searched for my necessities and threw them into the bag, zipping it closed and tossing it over my shoulder.
The room looked oddly empty without our things in it, but I couldn’t sit there and pick out everything that he had tossed somewhere. Or notice every picture that was broken.
I just couldn’t, I would kill me too much.
I marched out of the room, not literally, but it felt good to hold my head up high and walk out of there like I didn’t have a care in the world. No matter how hard it was or how bad is hurt to be here, smelling his scent and seeing everything that was once ours.
My set of keys, complete with a little Ugly doll keychain and a bunch of store cards, was laid out on the kitchen counter exactly where I had thrown it the day that I left. I grabbed them for old time’s sake, loving how they felt in my hand.
I know their just keys, but you’ll understand when you own a car.
They mean so much.
I practically skipped down the strairs, wanting to get out of there more then anything I had wanted in a long time. The Black Ford Explorer sat in it's regular parking spot about a 100 feet away, glinting in the hot sunlight.
…....Well, what could it hurt? He was out and he probably wouldn’t be home anytime soon, so I'm sure he wouldn't mind me borrowing it.
Pssh, hell yeah he would.
But I’m positive it was still under my name too, so he couldn’t legally do anything about it. And I'd make sure that he didn't find out that it had been gone. I'd be that sneaky.
I would run myself over to the hotel, so happy for the AC in the SUV, and run it home later tonight, when it wasn’t so hot and I could walk back without melting on the pavement.
I jumped in the car and blasted the AC unit as high as it could go, pulling out of the parking lot and making my way down road, back towards the hotel.
It was hotter then all hell, but the cool blast of the AC made it all better. It even made me forget about Dillon for a split second; it made me forget that I was driving down the street in his car.
But once that split second was over, and let me tell you, it was over pretty promptly, I quickly remembered what was going on and where I was.
Especially when I pushed down on the brakes and nothing happened.