Aspiring Nobody--Dark Billionaire Romance

Chapter 50 Love or hate

ERIN'S POV

The next morning, I wave goodbye to Simone and her friend Mia as they drive away. I am so thankful for Simone, her friendship, and her offer to drive me back home. Which I more than appreciate, especially when home for me is hours from Sydney. I told her I would catch a bus home, but she said it wasn't a problem, and she could do with a night away from the dorm.

So I accepted. And with things weighing heavy on me, it was nice just being a regular girl again. And listening to music and hearing the giggles of my friends as they discuss boys and parties, made me a feel a little closer to the girl I lost back in Sydney. Somehow, I'd forgotten about the simple life I had; this is how my life should be.

As I look around the small cul-de-sac, at the modest brick homes, a charge of hope fills me. This is where I made most of my childhood dreams; this was where I cried over my father and Dmitri. So it only seems right to be here now with a crushed heart yet again.

A flood of memories hit me: from the crane lowering the kidney-shaped swimming pool into the Cameron's back yard; to the day the Thompson's brought their first baby home. And the years that followed, two more.

I have an endless number of memories of this little street. As much as I love Sydney and everything it offers, I am glad to be home. I don't care that Ernie from next door will wake me up at 7 am on Saturday morning to mow his lawn; or Wayne will let his three sons ride their motor bike around the cul-de-sac.

It's uncomplicated, and just what I need. Unless my current mind set changes, I may never return to Sydney?

A screen door slams, and I spot Mrs. Tanner coming down her veranda steps. "How are you, Mrs. Tanner?" I wave.

As she shields her eyes from the rising sun, she walks towards the letterbox. "Erin... love is that you?"

I smile. "Yep, it's me."

"Sorry, love." She pulls a bundle of pamphlets from her letterbox and tucks them under her arm. "I wasn't sure," she laughs, but it turns into a phlegmy cough. "You look different."

I am different. I just wasn't aware that the change was visible.

A few minutes later, with our coffees in hand, Mum and I retreat to the lounge room. I settle on the sofa, blowing into my steaming mug of coffee, while taking in the new painted grey walls. Besides the fresh paint and new black sofas, the cottage style furnishings and familiar ornaments are still the same.

After a restless night and a lot of pondering, I woke early with a thumping headache. I have concluded that unless I am in a better frame of mind before I return to Sydney, I will not be going back. Which has me now putting real consideration into transferring to another university? What one, I'm not sure? How would I even make it happen, I don't know because I haven't thought this through well enough to have a plan? It's only an idea at this point.

And I've been having some strange thoughts about how much simpler things would be if I didn't have to deal with all these problems. How simple it would be to give up. To be free from the heart arch. I'm so mixed up that I have to remind myself that what I'm thinking, feeling, is coming from a place of pain. And I shouldn't pay the thoughts any proper attention. Which is why I can't yet tell mum about me wanting to transfer to another university? She'll think I'm losing it. Perhaps I am?

"Well, what's going on, sweetie?"

With my eyes downcast, I shrug. I am almost too humiliated to tell Mum how I've made a mess of things back in Sydney: with Styles— my education — my wellbeing and even put my safety at risk. Even though there is so much to cover, I start at the cause of all my trouble—losing my money. Once I start, I don't hold back. Just as I did with Styles, the secrets and lies flow out of me. When I cry, so does mum. She comforts me in the way she always has done, with open arms and smoothing words of support to lift my weak spirit. Not that she has any clue how weak I am at this point.

By the time I finish, my eyes are sore, my nose won't stop running, and I'm sobbing into mum's shoulder. I know she's no doubt in shock since everything I just told her is out of character for me. Even hearing myself say such things makes me feel I am talking about someone else. But as sordid as it sounds, it was my life for a very brief period. But none of that hurts me as much as losing Styles. How do I stop this? Stop the thoughts that fill my head when I'm alone and reliving every moment we ever shared. I miss him. I want him and knowing I will never have him again is a thought I am finding hard to bear.

"You'll be ok, sweetie." Mum whispers.

She tries to sooth away my pain with some comforting lies I'm sure every person in the world has heard at least once. Not that it makes it hurt any less.

Will I ever trust another man? I don't know. And that's the damage Styles has caused me. Does he know what he's done to me? How he has cut me open with his lies. How much of a mess I am.

Was all this a thrill to him. Did he get off manipulating me? Watching me do as he wanted, as he has planned? He's poison. Cruel. He needs therapy. And perhaps, so do I after everything that's happened.

"Love sucks," I sob. "How is it I didn't even like him when we first met, and now, I'm falling apart because of him? Why can't someone come up with a vaccination for love? I just want this to be over."

Mum kisses my forehead. "Not all men are like that, sweetie. The most important thing is to allow yourself to feel it, but never allow the misery and pain to ruin your life."

I don't want to tell her that maybe it already has. With everything that's happened to me over the last few weeks, it's been weighting me down; nevertheless, I pushed on. I wasn't sure what else to do. So I pretended none of it was getting to me. When, in fact, it was slowing breaking me down, and by the time I discovered what Styles had done to me, I could take no more?

Now, my mind keeps reliving it, even though I try to stop the thoughts. But it doesn't stop them from coming though. And the more they get a hold on me, the more I feel as if I am losing me, who I am, wanted to be before it all happened.

Over the next few days, I barely eat or sleep. I cry too much. I have no appetite, and can't seem to find the energy or interest to drag my tired body out of bed before two or three o'clock in the afternoon. I've been sitting up half the night binge watching Game of Thrones, You, and Kath and Kim. It's all I can do to stop the thoughts. I know I need to let this go. But I'm not sure how to do that, or if I can?

And now, the animosity seeps through my system, turning my love for Styles into something tainted and horrible. I just wish I had never met him.

I hate him!

I love him!

I hate him!

I love him!

Am I going mad?

Please don't forget to vote or leave a comment.

Thank you!