long. I take a deep breath. The inhalation is a break in my dam. Tears burst through the ice inside of me and I succumb. Becca leads me into my bedroom and I curl up against her on my bed and cry for hours, and the entire time I do I picture my father’s handsome whorish face.
He did this to me. He ruined my childhood, my trust, and my future.
Becca holds me. “This is a good thing,” she insists. “Please stop crying. He’s one guy. Just one guy.”
That makes me cry harder.
“You’re scaring me.” She wraps me closer to her, rocking me back and forth. “We’ll move out in the morning.
I didn’t think I could cry harder. Yet I do. I scream and wail, surprised by my lung power. All of my frustrations and emotions over the past few days, even years, compound with the realization Kent is gone. The word ‘gone’ twists the knife he slid into me. It hurts so damn bad to know I was wrong the entire time. He wasn’t dragging me down. I was dragging myself down. Kent was simply the person responsible for my destruction.
Eventually I cry myself to sleep. When I wake up Becca is snoring softly beside me. I don’t move or think. Thinking hurts. I lie still and stare at her familiar features. You’re all the same. Silent tears trail down my cheeks. Attempting to convince myself this is a good thing doesn’t work. It feels far worse than even I understand.
We were supposed to be trying. He was trying.
I roll over onto my back and stare at the ceiling. The movement must rouse Becca because she sits up and gasps, looking around the room. She always wakes up like that. As if someone’s standing over her with a knife.
And I’m the one with trust issues.
She spots me and releases her breath, sagging back down on top of my blankets. “Stop crying. You’re an O’Connor. We get up and move on. You remember when we got taken away by the state? You cried for months straight until we ran away and I found a place. Couldn’t even eat. But you stopped, didn’t you? You got better.”
“Did I?”
“Yes, you did. You’ll get better again. You barely know him. I don’t understand what it is about this guy.”
I try and listen to her words instead of feeling them. “He’s just a guy,” I repeat, trying it out.
“That’s it. Come on,” she says, patting my thigh. “Let’s start packing.”
She is in such a hurry to get me away from him. To free me from my own self.
“Raina!” she snaps. “Get your ass up. This is ridiculous. He’s not even worth crying over. Let’s go. Get up!”
I flinch and wipe my tears. “This is your fault.”
“No it’s not. This was going to happen regardless. I’m glad I’m here to pick up the pieces.”
Pieces. That’s all I am now. Sharp shards that are no longer whole. Kent has shattered me. I wanted him to want the pieces. But he didn’t want them.
Those pieces are you, my common sense points out. Without them I’m not me. I can’t let a man take them from me.
“Help me. Take these bags down to your car. I got most of your clothes and things in garbage bags. We can come back and get your furniture.”
I refuse to speak to her.
She opens the door for me as I grab two heavy garbage bags full of clothes. As I do I can’t help looking at Kent’s door. It’s closed. But I know he’s in there. I turn away and keep walking. One foot in front of the other. It’s what I’ve always done. It’s all I can do now. Becca is behind me. As long as that’s true I can keep going. She unlocks my car and opens the back doors and the trunk. We start cramming it full of my stuff, making too many trips to count.
“Is that it?” she checks, wiping her sweaty hands off on her pants.
“I have to go get my purse and phone.” I start heading for the stairs.
“That’s it, right, Rain?” Her gaze is intense and probing.
“That’s it.”
On my way back into the apartment James comes out of his room, groggy and sleepy-eyed. He smiles pleasantly at me, but his smiles falls as he passes my bedroom and looks inside. It’s empty expect for my furniture. Even my curtains are gone. My heart sinks when his does. He looks at me and then at my empty