Our Little Deadly Secret

Lonely Times

The call was for me. It was my mother worrying about where I was. Especially after hearing what Noah did. She wasn't the happiest. And I don't blame her. He hurt me.

Kassidy and I headed back to the party, where people had already started to leave. There weren't many people left. I slipped passed them all and went into my room. I still wanted to be by myself. And the only place I could think of was my room. So that's where I went off to.

I sat down at my desk, in the attic, and just looked out the window in the ceiling at the sky. It seemed so peaceful there. Quiet. Comfortable. Content. Unlike the world down here that we are forced to live in. I wondered what it was like to live in the sky. To sit on a fluffy cloud. Watching the sun set over the horizon and rise again the next day. That's what I wanted. It sounded pleasant in my head. But it wasn't going to happen.

So I hopped onto my phone and pulled up a number I had hoped I would never have to call or text. But it needed to be done.

I wrote out a detailed message, read it twice over, and then sent it:

Hannah:

I wanted to take the time to thank you.... for screwing up a perfectly good relationship. Not once. Not twice. But multiple times, as it seems. I had never destroyed your relationship with Noah when he was yours, nor have I ever had the thought of doing so. The idea that Noah had chosen me over you, however, gave you full permission to flip ours into a devastating mess. And now I suffer from it. I know it was you who he was texting that night. I saw the messages. I saw what you said. You can't deny it. And I know it was you laying in my spot in his bed the other day. Noah would not moan your name for no reason. I thought you were better than that. Apparently I was wrong. I hope your heart is filled with joy after letting your soul rust with sin when you took the necessary steps to interfere. I pray you rot in hell. Because that is where whores like you belong.

Without due respect,
Selena Maynard.

It needed to be said. She needed to know that I didn't approve of her actions and what Noah had done. She needed to understand I wouldn't tolerate people like her.

At the same time, it still hurt to write to her. I still loved Noah. He was my life. He made me beyond happy. But he screwed up. He destroyed what was left of us and didn't care until I actually found out. And that's what hurt the most: knowing that if I hadn't have been there, he would have gotten away with it and had no guilt. And he would have done it over and over again. And I wouldn't have known.

Granted, who knows how long it's been actually happening: a few weeks? Six months? Since the beginning?

I slinked over to my bed and cried myself to sleep. This was just one small sliver in all the lonely times that I would have now I'm single, once again.

I guess the main question is will I ever take him back if he ever changes his behaviour between now and a few months in the future. The answer is no.  He had his chance to change. And those who don't change now will never change at all.

I woke up Monday morning to my alarm going off. I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower, changed into some clothes, and down the stairs to my car. I had scrapped my back pack for a small purse with my minimum necessities for school: few pens, calculator, white out, erasers and lead pencils, a mini ruler, and some chewing gum.

Today was the first day of finals. And I had US history and Spanish 2. I knew I was going to pass Spanish. But I had doubts for my history final.

With my luck, I heard my mother shout from the basement as I was about to run out the door the dreadful news: "Just to let you know, I have already asked, and you are to stay after school and get help from Mr. Maac on your study packet for your Math final on Thursday. And don't you think of skipping..."