Sinful

Chapter 8

It's that moment when you're choking a sob but you can't cry it out. Tears begin to fill your eyes but you don't want to blink them out. Mucus begins to fill your nose but you don't want to sniff it. It feels like your throat grows big lumps and when you try to swallow, your spit maneuvers between the lumps. The moment where time slows and your heart skips a beat slowly breaking into two. Lana and I were never partners, but I would never think about doing this to her, ever. My mouth turns dry and I am brought back to reality, regular time moving at regular speed.

"MARINA?!" Lana yells and starts dressing herself. "Can I explain myself?" It sounds like she is on the edge of crying but I beat her to it. Tears escape my puffy eyes and they begin to sting. "Marina, I, I'm so sorry."

I hold up my hand to signal her to stop. I can't speak, words aren't what need to be said. Actions speak louder then words. I feel weak in the knees but I manage to kick my feet back and run. Lana runs after me slowly and effortlessly. We reach the door and Lana grabs a hold of my shoulder spinning me around to face her. "Marina, you are the world to me. What you just witnessed was just me being stupid, it happens a lot. If we had a label, if you were my girlfriend, this wouldn't happen. Marina, I never meant to hurt you, I just... I don't know what came over me, I lov-" Before Lana could make it any further in her speech my voice stops her.

"NO! NO! NO!" I screech. "STOP! I don't need to hear your fake crap! I felt something between us, Lana, it pretty fucking obvious that you didn't! I was coming over here to apologize, but forget about it." My tears still fall from my eyes but they don't stop me from speaking. "Stop trying to help me. I don't fucking need you, okay?"

Lana places her hand softly on my shoulder, "But Marina I love you!" She shouts at me weakly.

My head spins. Something courses through my body with a mix of frustration. "Don't say things you don't mean! YOU DON'T LOVE ME!" I cry out following a hard backhand slap across Lana's face. Her cheek immediately turns red and her knees hit the floor as she cradles her cheek in her hand. "Oh my God! Oh my God! Lana, are you okay?" I ask rushing for her aid. She pushes me away and I see she's actually crying. I wounded her. I wounded the person that filled a great spot in my heart.

Lana whimpers lightly as the man she was sleeping with sneaks out her house and starts his car. My hand rests on her back but she tries swatting it away. After a while of sobbing Lana takes her hand from her cheek that a bruise began to inhabit. "Lana, I so didn't mean to hit you. I get it from my father. I'm sorry."

"You might be sorry, or those might just be words. Emotions can speak for most people, but yours just aren't there. I can have the decision to trust you or deny the fact you love me. Marina, I meant what I said, I do love you. But, right now, you're not the girl I fell in love with, you're... you're monstrous. I want you to go home and never see me again." Lana demands. I leave without fitting another word in. That's it. I'm leaving to go back to the UK in a few days and Lana doesn't want to see me. It doesn't have to be over, but my gut feeling tells me to give up, it tells me it is over.

I drive home with no thought in my brain. On parts of the road my foot hits the pedal too hard and suicide jumps into my brain, but then I stop and drive normally again, thoughtlessly. I reach what I can call my home for only a few more days. I'm leaving in three days without another word to Lana.

I fiddle my keys into the lock and it drops on the floor. "Fucking fantastic!" I scream. My neighbors on their porch give me a 'shut up' look as I unlock my door. Everything is so frustrating, everything. I just wanted the girl I somehow fell in love with while trying to get my career going. She's gone. I kick the door shut behind me and open the light. The same thing courses through my body like when I hit Lana.

I feel like kicking the wall until my feet bleed. I feel like flipping the table over and ripping the pillows into pieces. I feel like grabbing a baseball bat from the store and repeatedly slamming it against the television screen. I feel like grabbing the expensive chandelier and pulling it off the ceiling. I have an urge to wreck everything in this house because I'm just so frustrated. Instead, I lay on the couch and start to crying myself to sleep, again.