Page 49 of Lilah
I couldn't escape it. The pictures showed when I was awake and they were worse when I slept. Pictures of his lifeless bod-
I cut myself off.
I remain wide awake until my alarm sets off. Once it does, I groggily get out of bed.
I take a shower all while struggling to keep balance on my single working leg.
I throw on a white sundress with short sleeves, keeping myself casual. A dress is easier to put on when you can't bend one of your knees.
I open my closet, grabbing a light pink sweater noticing it's a little chilly today.
I catch sight of my crutches in the back of my closet but I internally send them the middle finger.
Although I can hardly walk, Iwill notuse those evil things.
I take a seat on my bed and grab a pair of tan sandals. One goes on easily. The other doesn't.
I grit my teeth in frustration and pain and I attempt to put my shoe on my god-forbidden foot. Painful memories fly back to me as I recall having to go through this every day after the wreck.
I let my hair dry and it takes to its natural slightly wavy state.
I almost leave before remembering something.
I make my way to my bathroom and cover up the hickey on my neck.
What a leech.
I'm still incredibly upset with myself. How can I go from being angry at him to all hornish-acting? If that's even a word, heck if I know, I'm not a dictionary.
Then, to make things worse, I was seen by lord-knows-who when stumbling my way out of his bar.
He talks about friends of his, maybe all those guys were his friends.
I can't help but feel jealous of him. He's got people to help him whenever he's struggling in any type of way.
I had to recover from a fatal crash all on my own.
I maneuver my way through the glass-covered floor to get to the front door. I grab my keys and I leave.
~~~
I walk into the store leisurely; trying to keep a pained expression off my face.
The last thing I want to do is worry Mr. Terrip. He doesn't deserve to be worried about me, I don't matter all that much.
I find my chair and take a seat, letting out a sigh once I do.
"No 'Hello, Mr. Terrip?'" he stops right beside my chair.
"I'm sorry," I give him an apologetic smile. He takes a seat on the arm of my chair.
"What is it darling? What has got you this way?" He speaks therapeutically.
"I want him back," I keep my eyes closed so he won't see how they're watering. I've already cried in front of two people this week, I don't want to make it three.
"My heart is just, it doesn't feel right," I speak, confusing myself with where I'm going.
"It hurts; it feels heavy. It feels like there's nothing you can do to make it feel better," Mr. Terrip finishes what I'm trying to say. More like the words I'm unable to say.
