Page 69 of Nothing Without You
“Not until you take it back.”
“You’re making a fool of yourself.”
“Then I’m your fool.”
“Stop it,” he hissed. “Stop being like this when I don’t want you anymore. I don’t have space in my heart to be someone as needy as you. All you do is want and take; you never give. You act like the world revolves around you—fucking thinking that everything will be alright as long as you’re there for me, but it won’t. You’re the last person I want in my life.”
Hastily, I shook my head. “Your mom passed away; you don’t mean this.”
“Fucking hell, Adelaide.” He screamed, “Stop using my mom’s death as an excuse when I don’t want you. This isn’t some fucking excuse to grieve on my own. Just leave, get out!”
“I’m nothing without you,” my palms fell to the hardwood floor. Each tear burned my eyes.Looking up at him, through the ache in my chest. “Just… Give me eight seconds.”
He did.
Christian let me look at him for eight whole seconds without breaking contact. Where was he? Where wasmyChristian?
I desperately searched his eyes and found nothing. Seven years of friendship. Six months of love. All of it went down the drain. But I stood there, holding onto that last dirty piece, pulling at it. Getting dirty with bloodied tears and lumpy goodbyes. I had to stay strong for him. I had to be there for Christian, not only because I loved him, but because he loved me, and I couldn’t let that go to waste.
You couldn’t replace love with someone else’s love, but you could always hug it and learn to lean into it. Love was uniquely individual and our love for each other was pure devotion.
In those eight seconds, my heart demented itself, becoming a figurative monster that only existed in fiction.Maybe this is what heartbreak feels like. It turns into a vicious creature with sharp teeth, hurting no one but yourself.
“You don’t need me to satisfy your feelings of loneliness,” he left me begging on my knees, bruised, broken, andcroaking out his name over and over again. My tears and snot concocted together and produced a new version of heartbreak that swam through them before getting sucked up by the tips of my fingernails—the painful process starting all over again.
A sympathetic hand squeezed my shoulder. “Let me take you home, Adelaide.”
Osama’s warm voice brought a slither of comfort to the ice freezing my soul.
“It’s okay, I can go on my own. Just…” My knees shook as I stood. “Promise me you’ll take care of him.”
“As long as you promise me, you’ll take care of yourself.”
I gave him a sad smile.
Him and I both knew that taking care of myselfwascaring for Christian.
I squeezed his arm before walking out the door.
Behind me, a trail of humiliation and broken love left pieces of itself as I ripped away the part of me, I loved.
TWENTY-FOUR
SEVEN YEARS AGO — CHRISTIAN
I fell backagainst the door while my sternum expanded with the plumpness of an overgrown peach. Mold had begun to creep along the edges of this worthless heart, decaying before I even had the chance to taste its sweetness.
Pure, utter anguish erupted out my chest—blubbering in clumpy particles that no longer fit inside of me.
I covered my mouth to muffle the cries and the grief, and all of the fucking shit I dealt with today.
I grieved for my dead mother.
I grieved for Adelaide’s broken heart.
And I grieved for the boy who lost his childhood.
There was a knock.
