Page 2 of F*ck You

I drove throughout the night,only stopping for food and gas. The adrenaline carried me through two states before I finally reached the coast, but I wasn’t calm yet. My heart was shattered, but even more so, I was upset with myself. I didn’t know how I could move on, because if I ignored all these signs before, then would I do it again? Now I would most likely overanalyze everything for everyone and never allow another person in.

Fear was the greatest killer of joy, and it nearly held me back. Currently, I was catapulting myself in a random direction with no idea where I would end up.

Sometimes the best way to protect yourself was to close your mind and heart off to others, because the moment they caught a glimpse of your soul, they’d have every opportunity to destroy you, and they would use it without hesitation.

The piece of shit would never be able to hurt me again, and neither would anyone else. As I drove, I built walls around my heart to fight away the fear, and I welcomed the darkness with open arms.

As frustration grew within me, I put added force onto the gas pedal. I would drive until I literally couldn’t drive anymore without going into the ocean. I’d always wanted to live on the beach, but he never did. All he ever had were excuses. One excuse after another about why we shouldn’t live our lives and take chances. Although maybe those excuses were only for me, because he sure as hell had no problem taking chances on other women.

Well, fuck you, Todd.

Now all he had left were his excuses. His excuses and metal bins full of the ashes of his most prized possessions.

My fingers tightened on the steering wheel of my blue pickup truck, grateful that was the one thing he was never able to touch. He kept trying to convince me it didn’t have much life left in it, to give in and let him buy me a new, more reliable car, but I was never able to give this one up. I refused to drive in anything but this truck, and I would continue to do so until the day it literally fell apart into pieces that were beyond impossible to fix.

My knuckles whitened as I tautened my grip on the steering wheel, grinding my teeth as my reason for leaving crossed my mind for the millionth time. Pictures of their closeness replayed through my thoughts like a bad movie I couldn’t look away from. The bastard should be home tomorrow. I had no doubt this was another “extra late night at the office,” and he most likely went home with that trollop. He’d see his house in the morning. It was his house now, no longer ours. I wanted nothing to do with the burning memories. All I wanted was my freedom, and that was something I was going to fight tooth and nail for.

The engine sputtered as I rolled to a stop where the gravel met the sand. Exhaling out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, I loosened my grip and peeled my hands off the steering wheel so I could exit the truck. I didn’t wince at the sting from how attached they were to the vinyl. I was so disconnected, my hands could be on fire and I probably wouldn’t notice.

Slamming the rusty door behind me in my anger, I reached into the bed of the truck and pulled out the first bottle of rum I could reach from the top of the box. I took a big swig of the coconut flavored liquid, gulping it down in tune with the gravel crunching beneath my short ankle boots. I didn’t have the energy, or the will, to dig through my suitcase for my sandals.

The chilly ocean breeze brought out goosebumps on my arms, and I regretted not grabbing a jacket to throw over my t-shirt too, but only for a moment. I didn’t care about staying warm, or much else aside from this bottle to numb my thoughts. If I drank enough, then it would keep me warm and I wouldn’t need a jacket. With that reasoning, I took another drink.

It was difficult to walk on the beach with boots, so I took them off and deposited them in the sand. The location was a straight line from where the truck was parked, so if I wanted to, I could easily get them back. Although I would likely forget about them in the morning if they weren’t stolen by the time I woke up. They weren’t my priority in this moment though, since all I could think about was that damn girl’s cherry red lips. It was probably the same lipstick I’d cleaned from the collar of his shirt during his last ‘business trip.’

Hell, why did I care? Why did I let my thoughts keep wandering back to theories of possibilities for why my life was now in ruins? I left that life behind me, literally burning in a trash can. Now, I was free. I could do whatever I wanted, which apparently included drinking on the beach. I didn’t know what I would do tomorrow, but tonight I had myself, my pickup truck, and this bottle of rum. The trifecta of who the fuck cares.

I walked up and down the shoreline, the crashing waves singing a lullaby to calm my racing heart. Small critters skittered across the sand and over my toes, and I barely caught the outlines of their bodies in the moonlight. I’d heard about sand crabs taking over the beaches at night, and I took a good guess that those creatures were probably what those might be.

My feet were barely kissed by the waves as they rolled in, greeting me as I drank a path down the shoreline. I hadn’t been to the ocean in years, and it was exactly what I needed to help wash away every regret in life that weighed me down like bricks on my chest. With the weight of grief I would soon be carrying, it would sink me in the depths of the ocean.

Digging my toes in, I kicked sand into the air around me and the wind threw some of it right back into my face, which seemed fitting for my current situation, and my nails dug into my palms. “Real fitting, don’t you think? Kick a girl while she’s down and throw sand into her face when he walks away. This is fucked up!”

I parted my mouth from the bottle long enough to occasionally scream my anger and frustration into the otherwise silent night, throwing my problems out for the waves to take away and hopefully never bring back. I was done. I was finished trying so hard for others who only fucked me over anyway. Well, fuck you. And fuck everyone else who dared to get in my way or even come into my life.

My body swayed with my unsteady balance until I eventually gave in and dropped to the sand, wanting to bury myself beneath it like a sand crab and maybe only come out at night to drink and scare the shit out of unsuspecting strangers.

I’d always heard the saying about living the life you want without regrets.

Now, I was filled with a lifetime of regrets and had nowhere to go from here. Maybe rock bottom even had a basement, and if I buried myself deep enough in the sand, I would find it. I chided myself for not doing something sooner.

Granted, if I had left sooner, I wouldn’t have gotten to light the asshole’s shit on fire before leaving, so I guess it all evened out in the end.

I threw my head back and laughed at my own thoughts, the sound clashing harshly with the soothing waves.

In the end.

Was this really the end, or would it be more of a beginning? Wrapping my lips around the top of the bottle, I tilted it for another chug.

Only time would tell.

Something crawled across my arm, tickling the hairs on my forearm. It stopped for a second before skittering away. I barely registered it was there, but I didn’t care. I was numb.

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