Page 117 of Frozen Flames

Her face reddens as tears trickle down her cheeks. I want to catch them one by one with my thumbs, but I refrain.

“I…I didn’t remember everything I texted…” I reply softly.

“Yes, well…” She swallows, drying her tears. She turns and fetches her purse and heads to the front door.

“Please don’t leave. I was drunk.” I’m pleading with her now. “I don’t want her…don’t you get that? I just wanted to know what she had to say. Even if she wanted us to get back together, I don’t wanther. Does that not count for something?”

“It counts for something.” She pulls on her coat. “Yet again, they’re just words. You showed me plenty with your actions tonight.”

“Claire! Don’t go.” I can sense the emotions tugging and pulling at my heartstrings.

She can’t leave me too.

I wantandneed Claire.

I don’t want this woman out of my life, and I need her to fucking breathe. Does she not get that? Does she not understand that I can’t be without her? It clearly doesn’t matter, though, because she still grabs her stuff and leaves.

I’m crushed.

I want to call Gemma and shout at her.

I’m angry at myself for bowing down to Gemma instead of having Claire’s back.

How can Claire leave me?

She’ll come back. She has to.

The panic in my veins slowly transforms into fire. I’m wheezing at this point, unable to control my breathing.

I don’t even think about it when I grab the lamp and throw it against the wall and then pick up a few picture frames, throwing them across the living room.

Claire, come back, please.

I try and breathe, but the anger is overtaking everything.

I want to scream, but nothing comes out.

In the wake of my destruction, everything within me is barbed with rage. And holy fuck, it’s so much easier to deal with. I want to cut myself and paint the fucking walls with my blood. I want to destroy every inch of this house and burn my goddamn wheelchair.

I grab more house decor and throw the items with all my might. Just then, Henrik walks in with a big smile on his face, but his face falls when he sees me.

He kicks off his boots swiftly. I see the movement, but everything else is a blur.

“What’s wrong, Harv?”

I shake my head and shove my face into my hands. The anger is diminishing by the second with Henrik’s presence, yet I still can’t think properly.

“Breathe, man, it’s gonna be okay.” Hen pats me on the back, then he sits on the couch and signals for me to go to him, so I do. I wheel closer to the couch, but I don’t transfer this time, having spent all my energy destroying things. “Gemma or Claire?” he asks, high as a kite.

“Both,” I mutter, looking away from him.

“Damn.” He sighs, pushing hair out of his face. “What happened?”

I wish he would let me be silent and miserable all alone.

I wish he hadn’t showed up and I could’ve spent and emptied myself a little further.

“Gemma came over to see me. She was rude to Claire, and I didn’t defend her, so Claire left.”

---