Page 5 of If You Say So

The two up front continue talking, not noticing the tension in the back. To be fair, it’s almost a near constant now.

But did they not see Blake just reach over and crush me? Did they not see him take my already bleeding heart into his hands and squash it until it stopped beating? How could they have missed it?

I didn’t.

When we finally arrive back at the house, I’m the first to exit the vehicle, scared if I spend another moment in the car, I’ll die. I can already feel my breath being stolen from my chest.

I race inside and up the stairs to my new bedroom—my cold, lonely bedroom.

I toss myself facedown onto my bed and throw a pillow over my head, hoping to silence the happy laughter floating up through the air vents.

Exhaustion covers me like a blanket, and my eyes begin to drift closed. I’m tired all the time now—tired of the fake smiles, tired of the forced laughter, and tired of pretending I’m not rotting away inside.

The pretenses are wearing me out. I can’t continue to act like this isn’t killing me, like I don’t love him.

I love him. He hates me.

I hate me too.

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