HYSTERIA

FORTY TWO - PURPLE RAIN

PURPLE RAIN - PRINCE

"I never wanted to be your weekend lover, I only wanted to be some kind of friend."

ARIEL CALLAWAY

I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at my reflection like it's a stranger. My heart races as I twist a strand of hair around my finger, a nervous habit I thought I'd kicked. The bathroom light casts a harsh glow, making my skin look pale and drawn. I splash water on my face, hoping it'll wake me up, but the weight in my chest only seems to grow heavier.

What the hell am I doing? I should just text him and cancel. The thought bounces around my head, sending another spike of anxiety through me. But deep down, I know I have to do this. I need closure, or at least some semblance of it.

As I pace the small space, my mind races through every possible scenario. What if he's angry? What if he's hurt? What if he wants more than I can give? The questions swirl, a tornado of "what-ifs" that threaten to pull me under. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but it comes out shaky, betraying my nerves. Of course he's angry and hurt, so am I.

I check the time on my phone for the umpteenth time. I'm going to be late, and that only adds to the anxiety bubbling in my stomach. I can't believe I'm meeting him after everything. What if he tries to touch me again? I shudder at the memory, pushing it away. I need to focus. Just keep it together, Ariel.

I glance at my reflection one last time, attempting a half-hearted smile. It doesn't reach my eyes. "You got this," I whisper to myself, though the words feel hollow.

The sun filters through the golden and crimson leaves, casting dappled shadows on the cool grass beneath my feet. It's one of those crisp fall days where the air is refreshing, almost invigorating, but the knot in my stomach feels heavy.

As I approach the park, I spot him sitting on a bench, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his usual playful energy subdued. He looks up as I draw near, and for a moment, we just stand there, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us.

"Hey," Louis finally says, the sound almost tentative.

"Hey," I reply, my voice steadier than I feel. I take a seat on the opposite end of the bench, keeping a safe distance. The crispness of the air surrounds us, a reminder that I can leave if I need to.

"Thanks for coming," he says, his tone softer than I remember. There's an earnestness in his eyes that makes my chest tighten.

"Yeah, well... I figured we should talk." I glance away, focusing on the rustling leaves. "About what happened." I gulp.

I can feel the tension in the air thickening, wrapping around us like a fog. The vulnerability we've shared feels heavy, and I sense that both of us are holding back from saying anything. Louis shifts slightly on the bench, his expression a mix of frustration and hurt.

"Why did you really come here, Ariel?" he asks, his voice low but insistent. "Is it just to clear your conscience, or do you actually want to talk about what happened between us?"

The question hits me like a slap. I open my mouth to respond, but the words don't come. Instead, I feel a heat rising in my chest, an irritation that surprises me. "Us?" I scoff, "What do you want me to say, Louis? That I regret everything? That I wish I could take it all back?"

He leans forward, his eyes narrowing. "You think I wanted this to happen? You chose him over me, and look where that got you. It's like you just tossed aside what we had for a fling that didn't even last!"