Anyone Else But You
Anyone Else But You[15]
“I love her,” Patrick said.
I just looked at him. With a blank expression.
“I’m going to propose to her.”
Still I sat. Blank expression.
I stood up and went over to Patrick. And just beat the sh*t out of him. I turned around and left the house. I just walked. I walked until my legs gave in. I had walked all the way to Marine Park. It was pouring rain. My legs gave in and I just collapsed to the floor. I took the anti-depressants out of my pocket. I popped the lid and poured some out. I didn’t care how many I consumed. I just didn’t care about anything anymore. I was just a f*cking screw up. Everything I did was wrong. I loved Joe. I had no interest in Patrick. It was just that night. I was so lonely. And Patrick was there. He just was. And he was there to comfort me. He listened to everything I said. I was jus in love with him for one night. Just one. And I was in love with Joe for a lifetime. But I screwed it up. Completely. I swallowed however many pills that came out.
I woke up in the hospital. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be there with me. And there wasn’t. Patrick hated me. I knew he did. Marissa hated me. Joe hated me. I hated me. The doctors ran some tests and assigned me to a therapist. Which didn’t help. Because I didn’t say anything. Weeks passed. And I hadn’t talked since that day. I didn’t even know where Patrick and Marissa and Joe were. And I honestly didn’t care anymore. I ended up spending a fortune on hospital bills. I was sent there pretty much every week. Whether it was for extreme depression, overdosing, or attempted suicide. I was there. Once a week. I was such a f*ck up. And then I found out something. That I was pregnant with Joe’s baby. I almost pulled my hair out of my head.
I was now 8 months pregnant and more depressed than ever. I was a pregnant, unmarried, f*cked up girl living on the streets. No one would hire me for a job. I wasn’t getting enough food for myself, let alone the unborn baby. It was a record. I hadn’t spoken a word to anyone for 8 months straight.
I was walking down the street at night. Looking for a place to hide and stay. It was pouring out and it was extremely windy. It was hard to walk against the wind current. I started at the floor when I walked. I always did. So I didn’t see anyone in the way. I just walked. And I didn’t care. I continued to walk and hit into someone. I looked up. My mouth dropped open.
“Who did this to you?” He asked, pointing at my stomach.
I still didn’t say anything. I just pointed. At him. His mouth dropped open.
“That’s mine? In there?” He asked.
I nodded. Tears came to his eyes.
“I’m sorry for leaving you. But you’re a slut. So I’m sorry. You’re just gonna have to raise that baby on your own. Goodbye,” He started to walk away.
I collapsed and couldn’t breath. The rain poured down harder. I was gasping for air. I fainted
I just looked at him. With a blank expression.
“I’m going to propose to her.”
Still I sat. Blank expression.
I stood up and went over to Patrick. And just beat the sh*t out of him. I turned around and left the house. I just walked. I walked until my legs gave in. I had walked all the way to Marine Park. It was pouring rain. My legs gave in and I just collapsed to the floor. I took the anti-depressants out of my pocket. I popped the lid and poured some out. I didn’t care how many I consumed. I just didn’t care about anything anymore. I was just a f*cking screw up. Everything I did was wrong. I loved Joe. I had no interest in Patrick. It was just that night. I was so lonely. And Patrick was there. He just was. And he was there to comfort me. He listened to everything I said. I was jus in love with him for one night. Just one. And I was in love with Joe for a lifetime. But I screwed it up. Completely. I swallowed however many pills that came out.
I woke up in the hospital. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be there with me. And there wasn’t. Patrick hated me. I knew he did. Marissa hated me. Joe hated me. I hated me. The doctors ran some tests and assigned me to a therapist. Which didn’t help. Because I didn’t say anything. Weeks passed. And I hadn’t talked since that day. I didn’t even know where Patrick and Marissa and Joe were. And I honestly didn’t care anymore. I ended up spending a fortune on hospital bills. I was sent there pretty much every week. Whether it was for extreme depression, overdosing, or attempted suicide. I was there. Once a week. I was such a f*ck up. And then I found out something. That I was pregnant with Joe’s baby. I almost pulled my hair out of my head.
I was now 8 months pregnant and more depressed than ever. I was a pregnant, unmarried, f*cked up girl living on the streets. No one would hire me for a job. I wasn’t getting enough food for myself, let alone the unborn baby. It was a record. I hadn’t spoken a word to anyone for 8 months straight.
I was walking down the street at night. Looking for a place to hide and stay. It was pouring out and it was extremely windy. It was hard to walk against the wind current. I started at the floor when I walked. I always did. So I didn’t see anyone in the way. I just walked. And I didn’t care. I continued to walk and hit into someone. I looked up. My mouth dropped open.
“Who did this to you?” He asked, pointing at my stomach.
I still didn’t say anything. I just pointed. At him. His mouth dropped open.
“That’s mine? In there?” He asked.
I nodded. Tears came to his eyes.
“I’m sorry for leaving you. But you’re a slut. So I’m sorry. You’re just gonna have to raise that baby on your own. Goodbye,” He started to walk away.
I collapsed and couldn’t breath. The rain poured down harder. I was gasping for air. I fainted
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-xfueledbyjackiex