Disguise♔ z.m

Fifty four

Nora’s pov

When I was younger, I was pretty much controlled to the extent I lost my sense of want and need: I never really knew the difference, I guess, because it was all laid out for me. They’ve must thought of me as naïve, young, and stupid, but I’m no longer that anymore. I have met a lot of people since I’ve left home, but never did it hurt until now, that I found myself sitting at the rooftop of the building, looking out at the setting horizon, photos of myself when I was younger in my hands. Things were so much simpler then, that’s something I and the others can agree, but I did expect to get here at some point of my life, but I never pictured myself getting torn to such a point, I forgot what it meant to be happy once again.

Liam called. He left typical voicemails, all starting with baby and ending with please call me back if you’re there when actually, I am not there, or wherever he thinks I am. I am in another world: a fantasy. And this is where it got me, which for the matter of fact is quite funny because I thought I’ve been right all along, when in reality, I was being played.

I sit here for a very long time, observing the opposite building, some windows open, and some partially closed, the glass glistening under the touch of the sun. I am breaking inside, literally cracking, wondering what went wrong. I knew it was me all this time. I was never enough for him or for anyone that matter. I am no match to Elle; she has it all; the looks; the brain; the moves. And what do I have? Nothing.  It’s my fault people always leave, though I am supposed to be admitting that by now, I just don’t seem to. I wince from pain when the video replays in my head, the way he looked at her, God, that’s how he always looked at me. I really want someone with me right now, to tell me that everything will be OK and that a scoop of ice cream will heal my wounds, but this is the real world, where nothing looks the way  it seems. This is just a silly reason to cry, I know, Christ, I know that more than the way a scientist knows his creation, but, I never expected that from Liam. I guess I should have known this right from the beginning. He easily came and he’d easily leave.

Hours pass and I get a call from Frankie, who tells me everything about what I missed so far since I travelled and asks when we will meet again. My voice sounds broken, aimless laughter leaving my mouth; she knows something is wrong, I can hear it from the way she asks if I’m okay, but instead of answering that, I tell her we could meet in three days, because I resume work next week. Defeated, she drops the call, and I find my way back to my flat, feeling my heart get heavier with every step I take forwards my room, memories of Liam in almost every part of my home. It stings.

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My phone audibly rings and vibrates by my side, disturbing my sleep, which almost seemed like hibernation. It’s been three days since I’ve actually gotten out. All I’ve done for this while is stay in bed and cry. Stupid, I know, but I couldn’t handle the shame: he touches her and then me? I am so foolish. My sheets are scattered, the table in the living room has several books spread on the surface, and some of my clothes are on the floor, the grandfather’s clock constantly going tick tock tick tock.. I’ve led myself to insanity.

After several groans, I go for the phone. “Hello?”