Even Heroes Have Scars

[96] I Hate You, Don't Leave Me

Ansley's P.O.V.

I still woke up checking my phone for any missed texts or calls, having, for a moment, forgotten what happened. Then the lack of notifications and the puffiness in my cheeks reminded me that I no longer had her.

I couldn't breathe.

I didn't tell Jacob about last night's events. I didn't tell anyone. Just sent a text to one of the other managers asking if he could cover for me at work today, since I needed the day off. That was the most energy I could even exert. How was I supposed to rise from this?

'I'd rather suffer alone than with you.'

Bile crept up my throat as the memories resurfaced. Ever since I came home, all I could do was lay in the fetal position in bed.

'You're such a monster.'

I clutched a pillow to my chest and sobbed into it, becoming numb every now and then as I zoned out, only to be brought right back with another quote from last night.

'You did this to me! You're ruining me!'

It would've been less painful if she had just thrown her bottle at me.

'I can't fucking stand you!'

I couldn't stand me either.

Tissues littered my floor, so it was all I could do to push past them when someone repeatedly knocked on the door over and over again. Once I made my way to the door and opened it, I immediately shut it again, my entire body crumbling at the sight of her.

"No – Ansley, please! Please, can we talk?" she begged through the door.

I rested my forehead against the door, my hand on the knob to hold it steady in case she attempted to turn it and waltz in.

"I really wanna talk. I... I need to talk to you, okay?"

I couldn't speak. I couldn't even breathe. I just stood there, tears running down my face as I attempted to ignore her melodically broken voice.

Her own words splintered when she spoke, making it evident that she, too, was crying. "I really fucked up, Ans. I... I have never regretted anything more in my life. I hurt you. I know that. And I just want you to know how truly... sorry I am. That wasn't me. That was some hurting part of me that just... Look, I can't expect you to forgive me. Fuck, I can't even forgive myself... But I love you, and I really just want to talk. Please."

I continued to ignore her, squeezing my eyes shut so tightly as I listened to her pain. This was the moment I knew how truly fucked up I was, how truly in love I was. For a moment, I almost opened the door and kissed her. Because even through my own suffering, I still thought there was something so beautiful about the way she fell apart.

"Please," she begged. "Ansley."

I refused to give her any confirmation that I was still here.

"Ans?"

My stomach and chest hurt so badly that I couldn't prevent the sob from escaping me.

"Ansley, please. I know you're there. I know you're listening."

Silence still. If I said anything, I'd cry more, or I'd open the door, or I'd completely wither down into nothing.

She sniffled audibly, herself probably drowning in a puddle of tears as well. "Ansley... Baby... I... I love you, okay? I'm so sorry."

With that, she finally gave up and left.

I eventually managed to dig up a box from underneath my bed and began filling it with all of her things. Clothes, medications, toiletries, mugs. Anything she left here was going into the box. It hurt me so deeply to go through her things, but it hurt me even more to hold onto them and be constantly reminded of her.