Zane Cyrus is a moody boxer from England. He hates small talk, fake politeness, happiness and most of all he hates it when people can't mind their own business.
Calista-Mae is the epitome of sweet. She cares deeply for those around her and will go...
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CALISTA
I SAW a man today. A man that looked exactly like Wyatt.
I was walking down the street on my way back from the shops and he passed me by without a second glance. The rational part of me knew it wasn't him but the other side of me, the traumatised side of me, took one look at him and suddenly I was transported back to the girl I was back then.
All it took was one look.
My heartbeat sped up and my cheeks flushed and I stood frozen in the middle of the street, as the light rain fell harder on me and as thousands of memories flooded my mind.
The thing is, I've been triggered a few times lately. There's been one two many reminders of the man I used to love and everything has seemed to accumulate to this point, here today.
I didn't know what to do in the moment, I felt just as helpless as I used to feel and I was convinced (despite my medical knowledge) that my heart was going to beat itself out of my chest.
I defaulted then, to a setting that I never knew I had- and called Zane. With shaky hands I held my phone as it only rang once before his voice reached my ears.
"Sweetheart?" He answered and the floodgates opened.
"Stay there, I'm coming to get you."
If I'm being honest I don't know how long Zane took to pick me up but as I sit here now, fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie as he drives us back to his apartment I get the feeling that he ran a red light or two.
We somehow get up to his apartment and I find myself sitting still, cross legged on his sofa staring blankly at the white wall opposite me as I fight the urge to crawl out of my own skin.
I hate that he still has an effect on me and I hate that he's so important. No matter how much I try and give my energy towards newer, more positive things, he always lingers, sucking every ounce of peace out of my life- even from behind bars.
I just wish I could forget him forever, I wish he didn't have such a hold over me, even after all this time. I wish I was a meaner person, I wish I'd stood up for myself and I wish I'd gone to the police. I hate how he turned the best parts of me into weaknesses and I wish it wasn't a bad thing to be kind.
I wish, I wish, I wish, God I'm pathetic.
But even in the midst of my depressing thoughts, in the midst of my self-deprecating break down, I feel a sense of extreme calm. And I think I might know the reason why.
I break my stare, turning to stare at Zane who's walking over to me with a cup of tea in hand, along with some 'biscuits' as he calls them.
"Thank you." I practically whisper and Zane nods, his face full of worry.
Clearing my throat, I sip my tea and let the warm drink comfort me before speaking. "I saw a man that looked like him." I admit and Zane listens intently, standing with his arms crossed.
