FlAvor

Chapter 1

Eight Days

Eight days since I broke up with my good for nothing boyfriend.

Eight days since I thought I was fine but the pain seems to numb me inside. What did I do wrong?

I hate guys like him who think it's alright to hurt someone that's loved you for a long ass time and then ruin it like that love meant nothing. I sit here in my apartment, thinking of reasons why he would hurt me, cheat on me, almost destroy my self-esteem. I come to nothing. I've been glued to my bed, stuffing my face with ice cream and listening to the words of Marvin's Room on repeat. Jojo's version of course, singing pretty loudly. Guaranteed whole floor can hear me. But I didn't care.

What is the point of cheating on the person you're with, instead of being real and breaking up with them? I just don't understand it.

He said he loved me, and I gave him everything. When he started acting like a fucking thug in the run down streets of New York City to the Bronx and anything in between, and hanging with some of the baddest people that lives in it, I should've had the feeling to leave.

When I moved here for New York University, I came here to work because it was hard as hell getting into this school. Another year had passed when I met him. He was confident, charming, and had the most beautiful brown eyes. He was good to me. Until I noticed he had started changing after about 8 months of being in a relationship, like his attitude, for example. He's snapped at me more than I could remember, and every time I was close to leaving him for a few hours to cool off, he'd "apologize" and say he was stressed or not in the right state of mind. I always wondered what type of stress was too much that he'd constantly insult me like I was nothing to him. But when I found the cocaine hidden in his pants one day, stress was obviously least of his concerns.

Why didn't I leave him then? I thought I could change him, and help his issues. How foolish was I? Couldn't change a man unless they want to themselves.

He was selling all types of illegal drugs all around the area. He dropped out of the university when he started the drugs. His mom called me crying about five months ago, distraught on how her son gave up his future without a thought. I had no idea he dropped out, because he never told me shit whenever I wanted to talk to him. So all I did was ignore what he did and talk to him monotonically when I had to. I had my school work and my future to focus on, so I was not going to let him ruin that for me. I was already slipping from my high GPA at the time. Then I had a change of heart again once the summer break started, to see if we could try and start over, not knowing that he would be inside a damn prostitute for a trade of a shot of heroin.

The only positive part of this is that I'm free from his ass, though my mind still wonders if he even regrets what he's done and what he's lost for good.

My head is killing me, my eyes are probably blood-shot from lack of sleep, and the only times I've gotten out of bed is when I had to bathe, eat, go to the restroom, go to work, watch reruns from the Big Bang Theory to Scandal, sleep, and repeat the cycle again.

I hear my phone ring on the side of my bed and groan at the name that pops up on the screen. My best friend has called me a good 10 times today, and I've ignored every single one this far. I smiled, knowing that she'd probably want to strangle me once she saw me since I never ignore her calls most of the time. But knowing how persistent she is, she wouldn't let this go.

"Hello?"

"Girl, where you at?! I've been worried sick about you! Mickey and I are clubbing tonight, and you are too! I ain't taking a no for an answer."

That's Breanna, always planning on getting wasted on Saturday nights, and then on Sunday morning I have to deal with whining and her revelations that she vows never to drink ever again. But she's been my home girl since we were in high school. All sass and -- sometimes -- the class, is the best way I would describe her.