Page 43 of Frozen Flames

“You broke promises too.”

Her comment makes me want to laugh. That’s her excuse?

At the very least, if she would’ve come to me and told me she missed riding…I wouldn’t have understood her need, but I couldn’t have stopped her either.

“Okay. If that justification makes you feel better, by all means.” I make a hand gesture, dismissing her and her stupid accusations as I turn on my PlayStation.

“So that’s it? You’ll go back to playing yourvideo gamesagain?”

I bite the inside of my cheek. She’s accusing me of gaming when she rode a motorcycle?

The fucking audacity of this chick.

At least gaming is predictable,trustworthy, even.

“You’re not going to ask which promises you broke?”

I sigh, not knowing where this is heading and not wanting to jump headfirst into the fire she sends blazing my way.

I rub my hand over the lower half of my face before facing her. I’m waiting for her to go on, since she seems to have a lot to get off her chest tonight. Besides, I’m curious to know which promises she thinks I broke.

“You promised to love me. And to be there for me. You promised to never shut me out.” Her voice cracks as she names each thing. I’m too much of a coward to continue looking at her and staring at the pain I’ve caused. I can hear it in her voice, yet I look behind her, avoiding her stare.

But her words make me laugh. And it isn’t a happy one.

It’s a laugh full of viciousness and maybe even regret.

She shut me out too. For God’s sake, her entire personality shuts people out! She barely talks, never expresses herself.

Still, her words echo in my mind over and over. One by one, I play my broken promises to her like a broken record, and my guilt triples for hurting her.

The guilt takes over the anger, and completely cancels it out.

I grab the game console with shaky hands, needing to process every word of hers later tonight. I can’t do it with her around.

When she leaves, another wound forms around my heart, and I game all night until a headache takes over the mental pain.

I wake up the next morning after another night full of dreams and nightmares. Except sometimes even the nightmares feel like dreams, since I can walk in them. It seems so easy. I wish I could get up and justwalk.

Just fucking get out of my wheelchair and run without needing the support of a hot nurse behind me, helping me.

I don’t feel good today.

I’m comfortable in my misery, which is the lowest place to be.

The emotional turmoil is taking a toll on my physical body though. I feel some numbness, and I’m extremely achy. Some areas I’ve been working out are tight and itchy as well.

Gemma doesn’t notice me as I wheel to the bathroom. I can see her getting ready for work in her room. She looks great—black skirt, black stockings, and a cream blouse. For some reason, though, it makes me angrier than I was last night because I know that this isn’t for me—her clothes are forhim. Even Claire seems to have noticed, since she complimented Gemma on her outfit recently.

I envy her for being able to dress nice and go to work.

I envy her for choosing to live her life again at the expense of pushing me away, after what I’ve had to endure.

I know she has to. The rational part of my brain is telling me why she has to, and that I should support her and be happy for her.

Yet I also know she’s been spending time with her boss, she got back on a motorcycle, she doesn’t care about breaking her promises, she dresses nice at work.

And the worst part is that I’m not even sure she loves me anymore.

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