Thank You

Stop

Life is an endless cycle of pain. Some people in this world seem to never get a break from the suffering. I wish I could the pain away from her. Let me be the one hurting. She deserves peace. She deserves love. Real love. Not the sick idea he has of love. How could it ever be an option to hurt someone you cherish and care about more than you care about your own self. If I recognized love within the first week I knew her, it has escalated. Being away from her just ignited the feelings I have inside of me, making them grow even stronger, bigger. Everything feels heavier, in all the right and wrong ways. I just want to hold her close, tell her she will be alright, that I will find out what to do, but I can't, and she is not alright. What is a lover made for if I can't tell her I love her ?

I wish it would rain as I walk towards the bus stop. I stopped running after what felt like forever, but I am still not quite there yet, and I wish the rainwater could wash away the blood that just stopped flooding from my bottom lip. I don't want any memory of him hitting me. I was weak. I was small. I just watched and listened like a defenseless child. I let him slap me. I was weak. I am weak. How can I be any help to her if I can't help myself ?

I can her the engine of the old bus roaring in the distance and wipe the half-dried blood from chin again – not that it makes much difference, I still look terrible. My body feels so incredibly heavy as I step slowly towards the bench next to the bus stop. I know I won't make it in this state, I am going to have to wait for the next one. And I am right for once, the old vehicle passes me by as I am what feels like ten miles away from my goal. It doesn't matter. Nothing does. What if I come back later ? What if I get less time to sleep ? I wouldn't sleep anyway. If I couldn't before, it will only be worse after tonight.

It takes me a few minutes to get to the bus stop, and I immediately collapse on the rough ground, ruining my pants for good. Each minute feels like an hour, and I am divided between the wish to get to my house as quickly as possible and the idea of running away forever as far as possible. I know that, wherever I go, my thoughts will follow, and it doesn't matter if I'm miles away ; she will always inhabit me. At least being locked away in my house would mean being rather close to her. But isn't being awfully close in distance to someone without being able – allowed – to see them even more atrocious than being an ocean apart ? I bury my face in my hands, hoping that somehow, the pain would be blurred, darkened in my vision was too. But this inner dialogue with myself just keeps going no matter what. What an awful way to spend the rest of my life.

The next bus finally pulls up, splashing me as its brakes screech too close to my ears. After a few moments, I get up and et get on : I'm going back to my house. No running, at least not now – and not physically. If I ever was to go away someday, I wouldn't do it in ripped jeans and a blood-stained hoodie. I mindlessly wipe my chin again and brush my bottom lip with my finger to the thought of blood. It is one thing to take a blow from your lover's husband, but I cannot express how much I just want to go back inside my room without a word to my mom – without having to tell her why her daughter is coming back at four in the morning with a bruised lip. But I know better. She will ask. And if most times she simply gives up when I don't say a word while walking towards my room, she will make me stop and answer when she sees me hurt. If she sees me hurt. But she will be awake when I get there. If she told me she would, then she will. She might not be the best mother in the world, she does worry.

I get off the bus faster than I would have hoped to, and my feet drag behind me as I walk towards my house. The sky is black, low, starless. Hopeless. What I would give to raise my eyes and see the stars shining up there, reminding that maybe, Cate is watching me from up there – being the brightest I've ever seen. But I don't want just the mere feeling that she might be watching me ; I want to look straight into her eyes and whisper those three words again. I don't want the uncertainty ; I just want the real her. And I don't want to think that she may be looking at me from above because she is gone forever. I cannot have that.

I go through the door as silently as possible, but my mom is waiting for me again with the lights on, and it isn't difficult – it even is obvious – to see that my face is hurt. Running is the first thing to come to mind, really, but I don't get that chance, and as I start speeding up to get to my room, she grabs my forearm to stop me. I quit fleeing, moving, but my body stays frozen in the position in which it was when she seized my arm, and I stay standing with my back to her. I lower my head, not ready to give her a complete look of myself. It isn't much – the damage done – but I won't let her see willingly.

"Diana. Turn around. Show me."

I don't move an inch, my head still facing the ground.

"Show me. I saw some blood ; I want to see."

I reluctantly lift my head and turn around for her to see the bruised lip I have been trying to hide. There is a mix of regret, guilt, sadness and disappointment in her eyes as her thumb brushes the cut softly. She shakes her head and steps back with a slight frown on her face now.

"You went to see her, didn't you ?"

"Mom, I just..."

"I told you this wasn't good ! I told you this was only gonna be more trouble ! Jesus, Diana ! You need to let go ! You saw her – what ? – two times ? You can't be that attached ! And she's an adult for God's sake ! She can deal with her own damn problems, can't she ? If she can't, then very well, just call the fucking cops, Diana ! But you can't just start roa..."

"I can't call the cops, mom ! I told you all about..."

"Well then there's nothing you can do !"

My heart sinks. There's nothing I can do. I can't help her. Can't I ? I am helpless, my mother is right. I am worthless. Useless. I can't do anything for her. For Cate. The rage I felt just seconds ago when my mom claimed I couldn't love Cate suddenly disappears and makes space for a sickening and bleak feeling of despair.

"I know I said I wouldn't, but I can't let you go out like that to see you get home hurt anymore. I won't let you go outside after dark anymore. Especially not after midnight. I was wrong, and I was crazy to think it was a good idea. If I have to put on a new lock so you can't go out, I will."

No answer is needed, and I just want to get back to my room, so I just step away to walk up the stairs.

"Oh, and Diana ?"

I stop walking, not turning to look at her.

"Stop thinking about her. She's not your way out."

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i can't believe i'be written so many chapters of this already. this used to be the story that had barely begun, but well, everything has to end at some point (no, no, this fic is not over yet, i'm not done traumatizing you) i suppose.
i know what the outcome will be, i'm just still a bit unsure about how to get there, but i'll try and update as soon as possible