What's home, if not the first place you run away from? What's love, if not that unexplainable, blazing feeling which comes after a period of hate?
Reputable for her catchy appearance, her over-niceness, her obsession with cartoon animations and her...
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Westlife - If I Let You Go.
~
EMOTIONS MAKE men weak.
When I woke up this morning, I clawed the disheveled sheets beside me and found out that it was cold and empty.
I wanted to panic, but I relaxed, thinking she was in the bathroom or something. Wouldn't be the first time.
To confirm, I called her name, many times; she didn't respond me.
Maybe she's in her room, I thought.
She fucking wasn't, and most of her things were gone too.
That's when the panic creeped out of me with full force.
I called Amara first, because the last time she left my house, the woman knew where she was. Amara regrettably didn't know of her whereabouts this time around.
So I called the Director of the FBI in California to file a missing person's report. Harold Moore is Jason's close friend.
After a series of yawnings, questionings and answerings, he managed to convince me that Alaina wasn't kidnapped from my bed 'with me pressed tightly against her'; instead, she probably just left. Willingly. Quietly.
It felt like someone kicked me in the head with their Timberland boot.
Right now, I'm standing in front of her vanity, texting Jason in her very disorganized room and frowning at my reflection intermittently. Can't believe I was searching for her in her vanity drawers and underneath her rug. Can't even believe how fucking piteous, hapless and miserable I look right now even more. I hate it. I fucking hate it, and yet, I can't stop myself.
Me: Where's she? If she's anywhere in Canada, he'll know exactly where; that's if she hasn't already made him aware of her plans of leaving me, considering how fucking close they are and all of that.
PrettyBoy: Who?
Me: Alaina, motherfucker. I know you know where she is. And somehow I think I do too. I'm just too terrified to come to terms with it, because if I'm right, it's going to be a hassle to see my girl again.
PrettyBoy: Maybe go downstairs, get into your car, drive to an eye clinic, get prescribed glasses, drive back to your hotel, go up into your room and stare really hard at the spot beside your spot on the bed you both slept in last night.
