Lost, But Hopefully Found

Nine

Exactly two years ago today, I was sitting curled up in a ball on his bed after what he did, while he went off to football practice like nothings wrong in the world.

Today I sit here with my back against the wall home alone, with tears streaming down my face.

Even though I'm alone I refuse to let myself make a sound. In my mind I feel like wherever he is, even if he isn't near me, he'll get satisfaction out of me being this hurt.

So I sit here in silence staring at myself from across the room in my mirror, as my salty tears continuously hit the dark hardwood floors of my bedroom. Without one single care.

Looking in the mirror, I see my face flushed any color, smudged streams of mascara. The thing that sticks out most is my eyes, they hold an entire story in them, they look exhausted, like they can barely handle anything anymore.

In the middle of my observation my phone lights up next to me, I turn my head seeing that Mason texted me. To tired to type a response, or to even check what he said for that matter I hit the call button to try to distract myself in any way possible.

"Mase." I breathe out, try my best to keep my voice from cracking.

"E, what's wrong?" I let out a short breathy laugh at that. I know he has no idea about anything, but just the question is hilarious to me, in some sick twisted way. But that's just how my brain works these days.

"I'm fine. Are you busy right now?" I question, hoping that he can be my distraction.

"No, why?" I can hear shuffling in that background, he's definitely busy with something. I don't need to bother him right now.

"Never mind. I don't want to bother you." My voice slightly cracks at the end, as more tears start to fall down my washed out face.

"Elle, what's wrong? Are you okay?" He starts seeming worried.

"I'm fine Mase, don't worry about me." I whimper slightly, the tears starting to stream harder.

"Elle-" He tries to start, but I cut him off by ending the call and letting my phone tumble to the floor.

I don't think I would be this bad right now if all the fake people that I used to be friends with didn't try to reach out to me. It just hurts because I know they're only doing it for their guilty conscience.

My ex's best friend, who my ex ran to talk to about what he did me at football practice reached and said "sorry, I still feel bad" The way he put it made it seem like he was that broken one in this situation which made things worse.

My old best friend reached out and said "you must be feeling horrible right now" If you're going to say some dumb shit like that why even bother.

I start to hear a pounding from downstairs, and I have a feeling I know what it is.

The pounding on the door seems to stop, and that's when my phone lights up with Mase's name. I pick up, trying to keep myself from crying again.

"Hello." I say, even though I know why he's calling me.

"Do you not hear me pounding on your fucking door?" He shouts. I bring the phone away from my ear, the volume being to loud compared to the silence I've been surrounded in.

"I did." I say. Short answers so that I don't start breaking down.

"Elle, come open the door." He orders, not trying to make room for discussion.

"Why don't you just come in? I'm pretty sure the door is unlocked." I manage to get out without my voice breaking.

"Fine," I can hear the door open from downstairs, "where are you?" He asks me, obviously not seeing me in his line of sight.

"Upstairs, second door on your left." I reply hanging up.

I hear his footsteps get closer and closer, until I finally see his body in the doorway staring at my tear stained face sitting on the floor.

"Elle, what happened?" He asks, and I let out a sad, weak laugh.

"I don't want to talk about it." I whimper, as tears start to stream down my face again.

Mason rushes over to me, and engulfs me in his warm embrace, as I cry into his broad chest. He smoothes his warm hand over my hair in a calming manner.

I pull back from his chest, wiping the tears and smudged mascara off my face, looking at his crystal gray eyes filled with concern.

"I'm okay Mason." I say, taking his hand in mine, starting to play with his fingers. It feels so weird, and serious calling him by his real name.

He pulls one of his hands away from mine, and pushes the hair out of my face.

"Elle, it's okay to feel broken when something horrible has happened to you." He tells me, looking directly into my exhausted eyes. And even though he has no idea what has actually happened to me in my past, I feel like he's the only person on this planet that actually understands me.