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(Chase)
"I'm not sorry with what I did earlier. But I am sorry for a lot of things. I am sorry for what I did back then. I am sorry if my actions may lead you to dangerous situations."
He's sorry? What does he mean? What, is he actually sorry for what he did to me? Is he sorry for being the asshole that he was to push a stupid girl for chasing him? Is he sorry for making me feel so unworthy that I am not worth his time, attention, and love? Is he sorry for bringing the worst in me? Is he sorry that he planned the whole thing just to hurt me and to make me disappear in his life? Or is he sorry because I had lost my child because of him? I cant believe him. Even if I can I refuse to believe.
"If I cause the danger, I will still make sure that you're safe. In everything, I will make sure of that. I could catch a bullet just for you. That's how persistent I am. That's how much I love you."
He cant be serious, right? He cant! He can never make sure that I am safe. As far as I can remember he is the person who's about to get me in trouble for saying things he didn't mean in an event that is supposed to make both of our careers rise up. That itself is the end of my life. Losing my job, that is. How can he possibly mean that? He can never catch a bullet for me. Why? Because he is far more selfish to think of others rather than himself. He loves me? That is the biggest lie he can say. If I can remember it correctly he declared he loved me and the next day he got me on my knees while crying so damn hard. Yup. I guess it is enough reason to tell anyone that he's lying about that part.
"I know. And just so you know I can never save myself from falling because I already fell. Hard."
Stop it. Just freaking stop it. I wont buy it the way I did back then because I clearly learned my lesson. I am never going back in that phase when I cant even stand on my own feet because I was too stuck to even move. Nope. I don't want it back. I rather spend the rest of my life in charity events than to be back in that situation.
Damn it. You're screwed, Darlene.
I abruptly sat on my bed and had my hands scratching my head harshly. It's stingy but I don't care. I just want to get my head straight again because for crying out loud I want his voice out of my mind. It's been one week already! One freaking week. A week had passed and I swear, I didn't have any good sleep. What he told me that night keeps on bothering me.
To make it much better I even dreamt of him. Yup. Way to go.
There would be dreams where he's there, sitting on the exact same spot that we sat on that starry night the first time I went in their home. He's there with a guitar in his hands serenading me and telling me he loves me. There were dreams that he actually caught a bullet for me. And I hate it.
What I hate, you ask? I don't know what exactly. I probably hate the fact that I dreamt of him or the part that he told me he loves me because it just reminds me of how foolish I was. Or when I saw him dead with a bullet straight in his heart because I know that it is impossible for him to do that for me. Or I probably hate myself because I should be happy to see him lying on the floor swimming in his own blood because I had wished him dead but I cant be happy about it.
