Break

Chapter One

I can't cry. Not here. Not in front of HIM. I can't show him my weakness. I can't let him know that I'm still hurting, that I still miss him. I can't let him see that even his name makes my heart ache, making him a nameless pain in my life. I want him to think that I'm strong, to believe that I have moved on. I have to look happy, confident. I want him to see me smiling and letting go, and come to the sudden, burning realization that I am no longer his.

He is standing outside the school with a group of his friends, laughing and making jokes. But he doesn't appear happy. His usually bright green eyes have a dull, far-away look. I walk by, holding my chin high and maintaining a confident smile. Inside, however, it's killing me. I hate seeing him fake his happiness, I hate seeing him broken.

I step onto my hot, suffocating school bus and sit in the first seat on the left. I stare out the window at the rolling fields the entire way home, my music blaring through my headphones. I manage to keep it all together the whole way, but the second I open the door to my house, I lose it. I collapse to the floor in a sobbing, shaking heap. Everything seems to crash down on me at once: the happy moments, the fights, the screaming, the breakup. If I could just forget the whole relationship ever happened, it would hurt so much less. I would do anything to get rid of this pain.

It's been a month. Why am I not over this yet?

I drop my backpack onto the freshly cleaned carpet and pick myself up off the floor. Tears are still streaming in a torrential downpour over my cheeks. I do nothing to stop or get rid of them; I just let them fall off of my face and onto the floor. I move towards my room and my hands grasp the first thing they find. I don't even bother to look at what it is before flinging it down onto the floor. I hear a snap as whatever I threw hits the the hardwood floor of my bedroom. There is a loud crunching as my shoes move over the broken pieces, my hands searching for their next victim. They take hold of a notebook. Within two minutes, the pages are torn up and scattered over the floor. I am, once again, a mess, sitting amongst the torn up paper. I lay on my back, tears rushing down my face, for what seems like hours. I lay on the floor until the sky begins to darken and I hear my mom's keys in the door.