Wait, Where you say you've been?

I stared at his face, a beautiful face with a gleaming smile to match. His eyes twinkled and glistened, deep as the ocean. His hair swept messily around his head, flicking out in certain places and that made me giggle.

And without thinking, a water droplet fell on the glass picture frame, and I thought of what had happened. I sighed, the hurt and anger coursing through my veins, and I imagined his face as the tears slipped down, his feeble attempt to get me back.

The next thing I knew, I had thrown the picture against the wall.

The shards of glass, breaking apart in slow motion before my eyes, and then it all fell down. The sound of the shattering didn’t satisfy. I looked around me, and remembered all the pictures of him and of us that hung around the house, happy pictures that should have been treasured for a life time.

I ripped the first one off the wall, taking the nail with it. It was taken when we first met, a drunken picture but it held so many memories. I smashed it at my feet, just like he had shattered my life at his feet.

The tears came hard and fast, leaving me breathless as if I had been hit by a car, winding me. I went wild. I ripped down every picture of us that we had and threw them around the room, glass cutting into my feet as I ran to the next picture. The pain intensifying, emotionally and physically; then it just ended.

The pictures were finished, there was nothing left.
I stared around me at the crappy remains of my once clean house. I could see it was massively broken. Glancing at the clock, my heart stung with pain, drawing another loud sob between my lips.

8:54.

Exactly last night, he had come to my door.
And the memory replayed in my head.

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A quick rap came to my front door. I stood up, questioningly looked at the clock that read 8:54.
I rested my hand on the door handle, and pulled my shirt a bit lower around my midriff. Opening the door slightly and peeked around the door to see only Marcus. I sighed in relief and opened the door further. He seemed hesitant and I was suddenly on edge.

Something wasn’t right.

His shoulders slumped and his smile was non-existent. His hair was flat and his face un-lively. We stood, scrutinizing each other in the cold night.
Then he uttered those few words that threw me off completely.

“I’m sorry.”

I sucked in a breath, readying myself to slump against the door in defeat.

“What happened?” I questioned, looking down and trying to keep my voice clear.

I thought about the party he had been to. About how every weekend he would go to a party and I would be waiting at home, for him to come back into my arms and I spent the rest of the night comforting him as he emptied his guts into the toilet. I thought about how much love I offered out to him, and how I always wanted to hold him close to me. Then bad thought seeped through the cracks. He had taken me for advantage. He had recklessly had a fling behind me back and bulldozed my heart in the process.

“It never meant to happen babe, I swear.” I didn’t dare look up but I heard his voice crack. My heart shattered, fragments falling at my feet in a jumbled mess.

“I knew this would happen from the beginning, that I wouldn’t be good enough for you, you’d find someone better. How could I let myself be so foolish?! Thinking you actually liked me… loved me!” I sobbed, my eyes finally lifting up to his brown ones.

They were deep and inquisitive.

“Abigail, she came onto me, I could only think of you.” He said solemnly.

“Who is ‘she’?!” I hissed, my sob breaking up the sentence.

There was a long pause before he answered. We both stood staring at each other, watching each other fall apart right in front of us; everything we had built had crashed. Our whole lives we had always said that this wouldn’t happen, that nothing can ever tear us apart. And in the snap of a finger, it fucking ripped down. Like a sheet had been covering a special ornament, and then on a special day, the sheet has been ripped away, and with it the ornament toppled and smashed, leaving a mess and a not so special feeling.

“Megan.” He whispered, looking down. But the whisper had sounded like a shout, the sound still ringing in my ears and my heart thumping in my chest at a hundred miles per hour.

When we had first met, he and Megan had kissed a few times, but then Marcus claimed me for the night, and nothing had happened since then. He saw the pain contort on my face and made a step forward. But I was quick, and closed the door enough for him not to be able to come in, but enough for me to still be visible.

“How could you, Marcus? How the fuck could you? You know I’ve given you everything I have to offer, you this is how you repay me?” I laughed humourlessly, throwing my head back and smiling sarcastically. The tears still fell down my face, but right then, I couldn’t care.

"No, Abigail, this isn’t how it is! I love you so much! I don’t mean to treat you like this; I was going to ask you to marry me! We’ve been together for 3 years now and when I had saved enough I was going to propose!” He sobbed, his hands outstretched to me in a plea for me to embrace him, his tear stained face reflected in the glistening moon light, and it took everything in me to not run into his arms and cradle him like a child.

I was shocked by his response, we had never discussed anything this. I wouldn’t mind getting married to him, but having it thrown at me in such a way, I was staggered.

The cogs in my brain turned viciously, and I had made my mind up.

“Sort this shit out, the I’ll think about letting you back into my life Marcus.” I breathed before slamming the door and slumping against it.

Emotions took a hold of my body and I cried, I cried for what felt like hours, but in reality it had been minutes. My throat was sore and my mouth dry, my eyes felt puffy and swollen.
I walked around the house for a while, just trying to comprehend my thoughts. Marcus meant the world to me, and I couldn't replace him in any way what so ever.

Walking over to a picture or us, I stroked his face gently and closed my eyes, imagining what it would be like to physically stroke his face one more time, to kiss his plump tender lips and clear this shit up.

i put the picture back down and flopped on the sofa, closing my eyes in hope the pain would go away. And like that, I was taken into a slumber, so sad and miserable; I wondered if I would actually wake up.