Tattooed Hearts

Chapter 2: Agony

Maybe she did find someone. Maybe she did love him. Maybe she still does. But maybe, she let him slip through her fingers.

Yes they're still friends, and yes they still do appearances together, but it's not the same. They're not the same.

She didn't want it to end. Whatever it was that they had. She wanted to maintain it. However, they couldn't. Although there was a way for them to make it work, she knew it required sacrifice. He was willing to sacrifice anything and everything for her. Even so, she wouldn't let him. Not because she didn't love him. As a matter of fact, she loved him too much to let him cut loose of everything he's achieved, just for her.
Everyday she would ask herself whether she regret making that decision. Her answer would always be both. Though she regrets letting go of him, she didn't regret letting him live his life.

Still, she wakes up day to day with her aching soul, longing for his body to be next to hers. Moving on from him was much easier said than done and even that was still slightly exaggerated. There was a mild feeling of discomfort when she found out he'd already found someone else to replace her so soon.

All the more, she needed to keep herself together, or at least act like it. She knew that each and every decision she made was going to be seen by the public. So she smiled for the cameras and tried making every conversation she'd have more or less commendable.

It was agonizing, she couldn't lie. Seeing him hold another woman's hand. Seeing them kiss they way he used to kiss her. It ripped her heart apart.

She tells herself thats she isn't broken. She tells herself that she's okay. Perhaps thats because she's not living anymore, considering that living and surviving are two completely different things. For the past year and a half, she's been surviving from the everlasting fire inside of her that's trying to combust her.
Once in a while, she'd be on the verge of letting go of the roots that have been holding her for so long. She'd let go of all of her fingers except for one. That finger, that one finger, is the one that always stops her. In spite of it being the weakest out of all her fingers, it's the only finger that could remind her of the promise she made to herself. That she'd live through this. And she did.

Every morning right after she'd wake up and every night just before she'd go to sleep, she looks at her bare body in the mirror and embrace the calligraphy written on her. Those numbers would repeatedly stir a feeling inside of her. A feeling that there is someone waiting for her. That she is not alone. That there is hope.
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a/n
took a different turn with this but we'll see how it goes - Steph