Page 65 of Downfall

I call again only this time he’s blocked me. Cut me out entirely.

I sink down onto the low brick wall that I’ve sat so many time before. Around me is so much broken glass and soggy cigarette ends. All signs that I’m in the shittiest part of town. It feels like a reflection of my life, like some sort of metaphor for how low I’ve sunk. How fucked I truly am.

My tears start falling harder than ever. It wasn’t a joke. I know it wasn’t. He told me he loved me. He didn’t have to say that. Hell, he didn’t have to do half the things he did but his behaviour right now says a very different story.

Christ was I that stupid? That blinded? That starved for attention that I fell for it? Did I miss all the warning signs, too high from the fun of rebelling to see it? To deeply in love with Roman to notice that to him this was all a joke?

I’m pregnant.

There’s no going back from that.

No matter what games Roman was playing, no matter how twisted it all was, he can walk away but I can’t, can I?

I clench my fists, trying to process it.

My father is going to kill me. My mother too. This will ruin all their plans. There’ll be no Paris Blumenfeld. No fancy marriage and alliance. I’ll be an outcast. Christ, I really am ruined. Roman made so many jokes about it, so much teasing, but in the end he was right; he has ruined me.

I stare across at the bay. A ferry is coming in. It’s loaded with tourists eager to see the glitz and glamour of Verona as if it’s not truly rotten right to the core.

I have two choices. Go home, admit to everything and face the consequences or I could leave. I have a little money. Not enough to set me up or anything but it would get me away from Verona. I could disappear, run away, start a new life and have this child. My hands wrap around my belly. It’s not the life I planned but then I was never going to get that was I? Being a Capulet meant my life would always be controlled by my parents. But this way, this way I might be able to carve out a new destiny and more than that, I’ll ensure my child isn’t a part of their schemes.

I get up, wiping the tears. I won’t cry now. No matter what Roman was to me, is to me, I won’t think on it. I’m going to bury those thoughts, bury it all. I’ll live my life the way I want and ensure my child does too.

That’s my only option.

Fight now, fight for my child and bury every last heart-breaking memory of the man I loved until I’m far enough away to safely fall apart.

I walk over to the cash point. It’s covered in graffiti, another sign that I’m in a shitty part of town. I withdraw as much as it allows. Only five hundred bucks but as I walk back I stop off at another one and another one. Slowly I drain my account and by the time I’m done I have close to five thousand dollars to play with. Like I said, it’s not enough to set me up. It’s pocket change really and it irks that my entire trust fund is there, with millions in, except I can’t touch it without my father’s sign off.

But I’ll use this cash, I’ll get a bus out of town, I’ll cross the country, get as far from Verona as I can and then I’ll find some quiet town, somewhere that feels safe, and I’ll get a job, I’ll actually work for a living, and slowly I’ll build a new life.

A life on my terms.

That idea makes me smile. I’ll do this for my child.

And I’ll never see Roman Montague, or have to hear his name again.

I just need to get home and pack a few things. Not much, just enough clothes and essentials to save wasting my resources.

And tomorrow I’ll leave.

Vanish.

Rose Capulet will be no more.

She’ll cease to exist.

I’ll become someone new, I’ll become a real person and not the fake sunshine princess my family has moulded me into.

But as I turn the corner footsteps behind me make me freeze. As does the voice calling out.

“And where have you been?”

I gulp looking up, meeting the cold, mean eyes of Carter and, as gravel crunches behind me, I know Sampson is there at my back.

“Just for a walk.” I reply trying to look as innocent as possible. I hate these two. Out of all of father’s men these two men are the meanest, nastiest pieces of shit. They make my skin crawl.

“Is that so?” Sampson says grabbing my bag and I yelp trying to pull it back.

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