Toxic
Five.
"Cooke! Cooke Marie Farraday, get your skank ass out of your room, NOW!"
I hadn't let my room in two days. This was one of the few times that I loved the fact that the ad agency I worked for was so lenient with my hours. I called in and said I was sick and they told me to do some work from home, if I was up for it, and they'd see me once I felt better. Eating was completely out of the question, as well as sleep. For the past forty eight hours I had been laying in my bed, curled up in a ball, crying my eyes out while watching whatever pointless shit decided to pop up on MTV. I only ever got up to use the bathroom, or to cry in the shower (since a change in scenery made it SO much better). By hour twenty-eight, the tears had stopped and I felt pretty much nothing.
Caroline had given me my space ever since I walked back through the door and told her I didn't want to talk about it. I heard her get up in the mornings, walk over to my door and listen to see if I was moving at all, before leaving for work. She came back at night, checked my door again before going on with her routine. But my sorrow seemed to be getting to her now, or she was just sick of being so alone. The pounding at my door continued. With a defeated sigh, I got up, unlocked the door, and returned to the place I had been laying, eyes so focused on whatever nonsense was showing. I didn't even look at her as she entered the room and sat at the foot of my bed.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Caroline spat, folding her legs underneath her and flailing her arms in some grand gesture. "You come back, lock yourself away for days, and act like your fucking world is over. What the hell is wrong?!" Sympathy had never really been a strong point when it came to Caroline. She thought emotions were rather dumb things that could easily be contained. Normally, I would agree with her completely, but this flood of tears wasn't something that could be stopped. "Cooke. Talk to me."
"He said he was falling for me," I muttered, hoping more than anything she didn't hear.
"Who said that?" Caroline asked, moved on the bed so she was now sitting behind me, rubbing my shoulder lightly. I knew it was making her uncomfortable, but she was at least trying.
"Mike Green."
Caroline got quiet, and I could feel her moving behind me. Now I knew she was uncomfortable. "Why is that such a bad thing?"
I had been waiting for that question. Why on earth would telling someone that you're falling for them cause them this much pain? For most people, it would be a wonderful thing to hear, especially from someone like Mike Green. I took in a deep breath before sitting myself up and looking at my roommate curiously. I liked Caroline, and I trusted Caroline, but that doesn't mean she knew much about my past. She knew about my father passing away. Most people knew about that, even if I didn't want them to. It always seemed to come up in conversations. What does your Dad do for a living? Why do you just live with your Mom? Blah blah blah. But I wasn't crying because of the death of my father. I was crying over the loss of someone else.
Alexander, or rather Xander as he preferred to be called, was someone I met within weeks of moving to DC. He was smart, funny, charming, and all around wonderful. It didn't take us long to start dating and before I knew it we had been together for over two years. I was now a junior in college and he was finishing up his senior year. Things couldn't have really been more perfect. On his graduation day, he proposed to me. I don't remember a time in my life when I was happier, probably because there hadn't been one. For once in my life, it seemed like everything was find a way to fit into place just the way I wanted it to. Then, it fell apart. In the years that I was dating Xander, I knew nothing about his terrible depression, or the fact that he turned to alcohol and pills to deal with it. When he was with me, there was always this perfect smile on his face like our lives would always be wonderful. It took me pushing him a little bit too far for it to all end.
We didn't fight, ever. Nothing ever seemed to come between us...except the bar. He hated my night job, and couldn't quite understand why I had to go and work at a bar every weekend. Xander told me that he had more than enough money to take care of us both, and had offered to pay for school more times than I could count. I didn't want that though. I wanted to make it on my own. I left his apartment one night for the bar after a rather horrendous fight with him, knowing good and well that when I showed back up, we would find a way to get past it and move on with outlives. Like any other night, I slipped my engagement ring off my finger and onto a necklace that I wore. Turns out, guys don't tip engaged girls as much. The night at the bar was pretty great, and I made more money than usual. When I got back, I was thrilled to tell Xander. When I found him in the bedroom, I knew something was wrong. He was gone. Just like my father was gone. There was nothing left but a body...
"It was my fault," I whimpered, burying my face into my hands like I had been doing for the past two days. "He loved me more than anything. One fight. It took one night to make him do that..."
I knew Caroline was in shock. How couldn't she be? Nobody knew about that part of my life, and I had intended to keep it a secret forever. But what now? She knew. It was out there. When Xander died, I vowed to never, ever hurt someone like that again. Not only that, but I vowed to never let anyone fall for me. To do that, I was going to be cold. I was going to be unresponsive. Sure, I still went out on dated, but that's because I felt like I needed to. It was all about appearances. When a guy would get close, I would end it. I never let them getting to the point a guy having feelings, and I never would.
Until now. Mike had already admitted to it.
"Cooke," Caroline said, wrapping her arms around me, "You cannot blame yourself for that. If you didn't know about Xander's drug problem..."
"But I should have known!"
"Doesn't mean you were going to. Cooke, you've got to move on and maybe Mike can help with that."
"No, he can't. I'll be the one to break his heart," I began to pick at my blanket, wanting nothing more than to hide away again and lock the world out.
Before I knew it, Caroline had my face grasped between her hands and was staring into my eyes. I could feel her force, and knew that the sweet little bookworm I lived with was serious...very serious. "Cooke Farraday. Give him a chance. He's stronger than you think. And, he cares."
"How do you know?"
Without a word, Caroline grabbed my wrist and practically drug me out of my bed. She led me into the living room, which I hadn't seen days. Scattered around the room were vases full of roses. They were all different colors. Pinks, reds, yellows, whites. Dozens and dozens. I blinked several times to make sure that the whole thing wasn't an illusion. Caroline left my side and picked up a single red rose, bringing it back to me.
"I think he cares, Cooke."
I hadn't let my room in two days. This was one of the few times that I loved the fact that the ad agency I worked for was so lenient with my hours. I called in and said I was sick and they told me to do some work from home, if I was up for it, and they'd see me once I felt better. Eating was completely out of the question, as well as sleep. For the past forty eight hours I had been laying in my bed, curled up in a ball, crying my eyes out while watching whatever pointless shit decided to pop up on MTV. I only ever got up to use the bathroom, or to cry in the shower (since a change in scenery made it SO much better). By hour twenty-eight, the tears had stopped and I felt pretty much nothing.
Caroline had given me my space ever since I walked back through the door and told her I didn't want to talk about it. I heard her get up in the mornings, walk over to my door and listen to see if I was moving at all, before leaving for work. She came back at night, checked my door again before going on with her routine. But my sorrow seemed to be getting to her now, or she was just sick of being so alone. The pounding at my door continued. With a defeated sigh, I got up, unlocked the door, and returned to the place I had been laying, eyes so focused on whatever nonsense was showing. I didn't even look at her as she entered the room and sat at the foot of my bed.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Caroline spat, folding her legs underneath her and flailing her arms in some grand gesture. "You come back, lock yourself away for days, and act like your fucking world is over. What the hell is wrong?!" Sympathy had never really been a strong point when it came to Caroline. She thought emotions were rather dumb things that could easily be contained. Normally, I would agree with her completely, but this flood of tears wasn't something that could be stopped. "Cooke. Talk to me."
"He said he was falling for me," I muttered, hoping more than anything she didn't hear.
"Who said that?" Caroline asked, moved on the bed so she was now sitting behind me, rubbing my shoulder lightly. I knew it was making her uncomfortable, but she was at least trying.
"Mike Green."
Caroline got quiet, and I could feel her moving behind me. Now I knew she was uncomfortable. "Why is that such a bad thing?"
I had been waiting for that question. Why on earth would telling someone that you're falling for them cause them this much pain? For most people, it would be a wonderful thing to hear, especially from someone like Mike Green. I took in a deep breath before sitting myself up and looking at my roommate curiously. I liked Caroline, and I trusted Caroline, but that doesn't mean she knew much about my past. She knew about my father passing away. Most people knew about that, even if I didn't want them to. It always seemed to come up in conversations. What does your Dad do for a living? Why do you just live with your Mom? Blah blah blah. But I wasn't crying because of the death of my father. I was crying over the loss of someone else.
Alexander, or rather Xander as he preferred to be called, was someone I met within weeks of moving to DC. He was smart, funny, charming, and all around wonderful. It didn't take us long to start dating and before I knew it we had been together for over two years. I was now a junior in college and he was finishing up his senior year. Things couldn't have really been more perfect. On his graduation day, he proposed to me. I don't remember a time in my life when I was happier, probably because there hadn't been one. For once in my life, it seemed like everything was find a way to fit into place just the way I wanted it to. Then, it fell apart. In the years that I was dating Xander, I knew nothing about his terrible depression, or the fact that he turned to alcohol and pills to deal with it. When he was with me, there was always this perfect smile on his face like our lives would always be wonderful. It took me pushing him a little bit too far for it to all end.
We didn't fight, ever. Nothing ever seemed to come between us...except the bar. He hated my night job, and couldn't quite understand why I had to go and work at a bar every weekend. Xander told me that he had more than enough money to take care of us both, and had offered to pay for school more times than I could count. I didn't want that though. I wanted to make it on my own. I left his apartment one night for the bar after a rather horrendous fight with him, knowing good and well that when I showed back up, we would find a way to get past it and move on with outlives. Like any other night, I slipped my engagement ring off my finger and onto a necklace that I wore. Turns out, guys don't tip engaged girls as much. The night at the bar was pretty great, and I made more money than usual. When I got back, I was thrilled to tell Xander. When I found him in the bedroom, I knew something was wrong. He was gone. Just like my father was gone. There was nothing left but a body...
"It was my fault," I whimpered, burying my face into my hands like I had been doing for the past two days. "He loved me more than anything. One fight. It took one night to make him do that..."
I knew Caroline was in shock. How couldn't she be? Nobody knew about that part of my life, and I had intended to keep it a secret forever. But what now? She knew. It was out there. When Xander died, I vowed to never, ever hurt someone like that again. Not only that, but I vowed to never let anyone fall for me. To do that, I was going to be cold. I was going to be unresponsive. Sure, I still went out on dated, but that's because I felt like I needed to. It was all about appearances. When a guy would get close, I would end it. I never let them getting to the point a guy having feelings, and I never would.
Until now. Mike had already admitted to it.
"Cooke," Caroline said, wrapping her arms around me, "You cannot blame yourself for that. If you didn't know about Xander's drug problem..."
"But I should have known!"
"Doesn't mean you were going to. Cooke, you've got to move on and maybe Mike can help with that."
"No, he can't. I'll be the one to break his heart," I began to pick at my blanket, wanting nothing more than to hide away again and lock the world out.
Before I knew it, Caroline had my face grasped between her hands and was staring into my eyes. I could feel her force, and knew that the sweet little bookworm I lived with was serious...very serious. "Cooke Farraday. Give him a chance. He's stronger than you think. And, he cares."
"How do you know?"
Without a word, Caroline grabbed my wrist and practically drug me out of my bed. She led me into the living room, which I hadn't seen days. Scattered around the room were vases full of roses. They were all different colors. Pinks, reds, yellows, whites. Dozens and dozens. I blinked several times to make sure that the whole thing wasn't an illusion. Caroline left my side and picked up a single red rose, bringing it back to me.
"I think he cares, Cooke."