He's So Gone (Completed)

Post Breakup Depression: Part One

Aeron

The voices came back and immediately began to mock my Diana. I screamed for them to shut up and they wouldn't. I pulled out my phone and began playing classical music.

They stopped.

I slipped off my blood stained shirts and grabbed my bulletproof vest off the floor. I put my dirty clothes in the wash and put all my weapons away off my bike. It was hard because of the stitches in my side but I'd had worse.

I then heated myself some leftovers and ate that for dinner.

I began asking myself why I wasn't crying and why I wasn't trying to call Diana. I couldn't find a reason. I knew that she was going to leave me. This wasn't a big surprise. I guess one could say that I wasn't prepared for when she was going to find out that I was an assassin by choice and kill people, but I knew I couldn't keep that big of a secret from her.

Of course she can't love a killer. I fricken killed animals as a teenager! Who does that? Me. Someone who is diagnosed with Antisocial Personality Disorder. The inability to feel for others. But I was able to feel for Diana. I loved Diana. I love Diana. My sweet Hawaiian princess. My future.

A future wouldn't be so bad with the girl I love. What was I so afraid of when she mentioned the thought of being pregnant? I should have been happy for us. But I guess I was scared about the same thing she was. I didn't want to procreate my diseases. I didn't want to make a kid suffer with all that I have. But all of my issues have been caused by traumatic experiences. It's not hereditary. So what was I so afraid of?

Nothing.

I should have told Diana sooner that I killed people.

I finished up my dinner and did the dishes. I washed my hands over and over again every few minutes and took medication to help me. I went to the bathroom and took a shower, following all the instructions the doctor gave me. I had clothes picked out on the toilet seat so I brushed my teeth then got dressed. I was about to shut off the light to the bathroom and climb in bed when something in the trash can caught my eye. I bent down and found two pregnancy tests. I didn't know what the single line meant so I researched it.

Negative

Both of them. I looked at the two tests and imagined me being here with her as she tested. Waiting with her and anticipating the results. Will I ever feel that way with her or ... anyone else? No. It could only be with her that I could start a family with. And I blew it.

I looked at her toothbrush and then at all the other stuff that was hers in the cabinet in the bathroom. She had practically moved in. What was I so afraid of? That question again.

I was always either sleeping over at Diana's or here at my place. It would have been so much easier if I had just asked her to move in with me.

I woke up the next morning after Diana's and my fight to an empty bed for the first time in a while. I found myself clinging to the pregnancy tests. I was also sleeping on her side of the bed. Her sweaty, blossomy scent engraved into the gray pillowcase. I needed her.

A breakup, what a great way to start off the new year. It was Sunday, so I decided to go to church.

The voices had returned the minute Diana left me. My greatest fear came true. Actually that wasn't my greatest fear. The thing I was scared of the most was the possibility of losing my identity to Frederick, being forever forgotten by my brain and God.

People say God loves all His children and wants to help each and every one. So why would I be any different?

I got dressed into black slacks and a white button up. I put on a black tie and slipped on a blue sweater. I searched the nearest church and went straight there.

It was halfway through the service that I even realized what kind of church I was at. It was Methodist. It was nice. I liked it. I felt something. After telling the preacher that, he said that it was the Spirit of God. The only other person who had made me feel so calm and loved was Diana. But now I knew that there was a higher being out there, looking after me.

Is this what Diana meant? She said that I shouldn't have to be dependable on someone to be sane. But does that include God? Can I depend on God?

I went home and ... I tried to be better. I called up a therapist office and asked for a multiple personality guidance counselor. I heard stories of people who were able to get rid of the other taunting personalities with just a few sessions. Why not me?

I made an appointment for the following day then moved onto the next thing.

I called up an OCD counselor and set up an appointment for that as well. I then cleaned my house and read a book.

I thought I was taking this whole breakup thing very well and thought movies were always just over exaggerating. That was until three days later when I found myself in my boxers eating ice cream and watching sappy love movies off of the internet. I cried myself to sleep each night clinging to Diana's pillow, which was slowly losing its scent.

I wanted to die and considered suicide for a day or two. My therapist, who I got recommended to by both my OCD counselor and my personality psychologist, recommended me not to.

I forgot the idea and my therapist told me to get a job. So I did. I didn't want to work for a large corporation in fear I might run into a man or woman I once did a job for. Instead I picked something easy. I bought a shooting range. My therapist didn't think it was the right idea but I loved it. Everyday I would go out and shoot the crap out of targets. I thought of every person I killed with every bullet to a target's head. I got clients fast and I began making money. Money earned by teaching how to shoot and helping people defend themselves rather than kill a person every other day.

When I wasn't at work I was at home. I didn't have a TV or much interest in Youtube or Netflix or any real entertainment app on my phone. I sometimes read a book that Diana and I would read together and I imagined that she was there beside me. I also listened to my classical music podcast even though the medication was helping with the voices and so was the therapy. I sat alone some evenings just listening to rain pelt against the roof or watch snow gracefully fall.

I didn't want Diana to leave my thoughts. I would reorganize her things in my bathroom and it took a lot for me to throw away her pregnancy tests. The clothes she left behind in a drawer I gave her I folded and refolded every other day. I'd smell them sometimes to gain the scent that her pillow was losing.

I worked out a lot. It was something to do. Over the course of a month, I gained ten pounds in pure muscle. I had to go out and buy new clothes to fit my firm thighs and rock-solid arms. What used to be a faded six pack was now a defiant one. I looked good. I was proud of myself for not giving in to sitting on the couch and eating all the time.

I couldn't help but wonder how my Diana was doing. Was she sitting on the couch eating and crying her heart out like I was in the beginning? Or has she already moved on to another guy and maybe even taken up a fitness challenge that has already made that fit bum of her's solid and even more round? Has her stomach become hardened? Or is it still that squishy feeling that I love to rest my head on?

I dropped her car off at her and Lily's apartment but left the keys in there without a note or anything. I then took the bus home and debated on calling her. That was the day after we broke up. Now it was a month later, and I hadn't tried to call her once.

Are men supposed to call the girl when she breaks up with them? I wanted to at first, but I knew how much she wanted her space. After a month of going to church, therapy, a gun range, and keeping up with school, I realized I didn't have a plan for when I wanted Diana back in my life.

I realized I didn't have a plan the moment I saw her at the store, exactly thirty-three days since she left me standing in the snow with stitches.

I realized how unprepared I was when our eyes met.