Page 64 of What are the Chances

I can tell this is difficult for her, but she just ripped my heart out and threw it on the muddy lawn. Just thinking of the damn grass has me thinking of that fucking theory. I want to punch Carl Jung in the face right now.

I step back and give her space. She’s crying and wiping at her eyes.

“So, is this it then? You’re just giving up?” I ask, my voice shakier than I’d like. I feel like a lump is in my throat, and I can’t push it down.

“I’m not giving up, I’m giving in… to myself. I don’t want this to be the end… I just need time and space. I need to choose me right now, and I need to be in a place where I know exactly what I’m doing and why I’m doing it.” She places her hand behind her on the door knob, and I nod at the gesture. She’s done with me.

I know she said she needs time, needs to find herself, but all I can hear are excuses why she doesn’t want me. I fucked up. I ruined it. Just like I did with Claire.

I nod one more time at Charlotte and slowly back away, then turn around completely. I lightly hear her voice behind me, but I can’t make out what she says.

My lungs sting.

Looking down at my hands, I trace the wrinkled skin of my palm. My body aches, and a cold chill passes through me. My whole body is a contradiction to itself. The places where Kyle hit me, wounded me, burn with pain. But the places where I’m left cold and shivering are the places where Charlotte has left me feeling empty and alone. When I get into my fathers’ car, my shoulders sagging, and my heart shattered, it hits me.

It’s time to leave. It’s time to go home.

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