Fractured Heartstrings

Ch 22.

Alyssa's POV
_________

I'm only human.

He build me up, strengthened my heart, turned me on, tricked my mind, but trickled quickly. He tore me down, stabbed me in the heart, killed me on the inside. And it's not like it's abnormal, I'll bleed when I fall down.

It didn't help much more to see most of our photos scattered around our old apartment. Nor did it help to see the shrivelled roses on the ground along with the elegantly marked antique vase. The place was a mess, and I figured I'd be more of one if I stayed here.

Change was good, normally. I was more on the positive side of this all, somewhat eager to see where or who I'd be redirected towards. But truthfully. Those words were nothing less than the lie my mind convinced me to believing. This was finalizing my decision on moving on, shattered or not, nothing else was persuading me differently now.

I continued to pack up every last remaining item of mine, containing my emotions that jumped randomly in all ways. Sweeping and cleaning up the broken glass and crusted tiny stains of blood left in the washroom.

I couldn't seem to contain myself, at least not right now. I was gradually broken, I just persuaded myself I really wasn't (although I even knew I was only lying to myself). Wherever my eye skeptically glanced, I'd nearly break down into tears once I recalled the memory attached to the item.

Crying wasn't the last of my problems, I hadn't slept for the past days, which truly explained my reasoning as to why the bags hanging under my eyes were nearly as dark as the midnight skyline. My heart was restless, and It would be for continuously some time. You know I seriously couldn't get over the mere fact of how the heart, mind, and body got so deeply, mentally and physically attached to some opposite being.

"Maybe this really is the start," I forced a meaningless smile, glancing around the room of where the beginning of, what I thought was amazing, had started. The shifting curtains flowing from the open window, the sun peeking through the shining (and surprisingly unbroken) glass, traffic and horns filling the silence of the place.

As I picked up my luggage, the ruffling paper on the counter instantly caught my attention. I paced my approaching, picking up the photo of William and I together. Written on the back, nonetheless than: "my falling angel"

I felt as if someone had jabbed a thudding knife through my chest, only thrusting It deeper inside of my bruised heart. The pain was unbearable, and every fast striking memory or memorabilia wasn't helping at the slightest, only increasing the guilt and sorrow remaining in my darkened soul.

"Where the damn alcohol when you need it," I gamut tired under my breath, grunting and pouting as if someone was here to help me. I was difficulty on my very own now, no charming prince to save me - because he ran off and kissed a frog.

I dragged out the last of my things, closing the door shut in anger. Leaving no letters or notes whatsoever, whatever happened in that stupid condo - would rightfully stay in that condo. The tears streaming down my cheeks as I tightly clung onto the photo in my hand, crumpling the piece of photography as I dragged my things down to the indoor parking.

Supposedly hearts do move on and futures change as well. One thing I was positive, memories never changed - no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself otherwise, memories simple and probably wouldn't ever be able to powerfully change. It was theoretically impossible, besides the technical proofing of natural mental illnesses or hallucinations - where you can't help yourself but change what you think and recall of.

I thought we did everything right, but I was on the outside of his lists and lovers. He may have changed - I'm certain he will, though the photo of our frozen time wouldn't change.