One Week Girlfriend - By Monica Murphy Page 0,34

back to my bedroom. She's calling my name, her voice is faint and I think she's following after me, but I'm not sure. I can't see, my vision is blurred and I'm ready to boil over in shame and fear and rage.

Adele's taken it too far. Again. She always does. I want to tell Fable everything but I can't. I'm scared she'll hate me. Judge me.

Be so disgusted by me she'll leave.

We're barely halfway into this stupid trip and it's all going to shit. I don't know how to handle this anymore.

Fable

I chase after him, calling his name, but it's like Drew can't hear me. The way his face became so completely void of emotion when I told him what Adele said was scary. He shut down right in front of me and it was the strangest thing. Like he was throwing up some sort of coping mechanism or something.

He slams his bedroom door right in my face and I open it, bursting into his room like a woman on a mission. He's standing in the middle of the room with his back to me, his head thrown back so he's staring up at the ceiling. I wish I could read his thoughts, offer him comfort, something. Anything.

But I just stand there, shifting on my feet, overcome with confusion.

"You should go," he says, his voice darkly quiet.

"Fine, I'll leave you alone." I understand when someone wants time to himself. I'm big on that most of the time anyway.

"No." He turns to look at me, his expression harsh and unyielding. "I mean you should go, as in go home. You don't need to stay here. I don't need your help any longer."

My stomach pitches and rolls and I feel like I'm going to throw up. "I don't mind staying..."

"I don't want you here." He cuts me off and I clamp my lips shut. "You don't need to be around this shit, Fable. What you've had to deal with is bad enough."

I feel like I'm going to cry. He doesn't want me here. No one wants me anywhere. My mom doesn't care if I'm dead or alive. My brother would rather be hanging with his friends. I don't really have any friends besides the few I work with, and we're really more like acquaintances. Girls don't like me because they think I'm some sort of slut who wants to steal their boyfriend.

Right now, I'm all alone. No one wants me.

Holding my head up high, I sniff, fighting off the tears. "I'll go pack my bag."

I turn and leave his room and he doesn't stop me. No surprise. What did I expect? That he would chase after me and beg me not to go after all?

Of course not. My life isn't a made-for-TV movie. I don't matter to him. I need to remember that.

My room is shrouded in darkness and I flick on the overhead light, head over to the closet where my dusty, torn duffel bag is. It's still half-full, I never really unpacked for fear of something like this happening.

Guess my psychic abilities are working at full capacity at the moment.

I start stuffing the bag full of my clothes, not bothering to fold anything. I don't know how I'm supposed to leave, but I guess I could call a taxi and have them take me to the bus station. I have the money in my bank account and my debit card is on me so I can pay for the ticket and head on home. Hopefully I won't have to hang out at the bus station for too long.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I glance at the screen and see Owen has texted me. Something about spending the night at Wade's again, which I tell him is fine and that I'm coming home tonight. He responds immediately.

What happened? Get fired? Did the dad come on to you? He asked.

Long story. I'll explain when I get home, I reply then shove my phone back in the pocket of my jeans.

I feel like a failure. I can't manage to be a girlfriend right and all I had to do was stand there and look pretty. Smile and nod and say nothing. How hard can that be?

Pissed at myself, I go into the bathroom and clear out all my toiletries, shoving them in the cosmetics bag I brought them in. I snag my razor and travel sized shampoo and conditioner out of the shower and throw them in the bag, then zip