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fourteen

I'd felt nervous a million times before. If I was around you, the probability I was feeling nervous was high. So that same heart-fluttering and slight gut-twisting feeling that swept through me was certainly nervousness.

Except you were not in the room.

But you were the reason why I was in it in the first place.

Or I was the reason.

The lines had blurred so much that I couldn't tell the difference at all.

"Would you like to say something?" the woman asked, her voice dragging me away from my rampant nerves.

"No thanks," I muttered, looking around at the other members who had expectant expressions on their faces. I didn't know what to think of my support group. I didn't even know if I should be here in the first place. I had acknowledged my faults so was that not enough? Did I really need help?

It was Fiona, one of my closest friends that I had confided in, who told me that even if I felt like turning back and wallowing in my heartbreak for days on end, it was time to put on my big girl panties and deal with my problem. I didn't like the way she said I had a problem. It made me regret confiding in her but I had to tell someone who could guide me, who could help me through all the dark thoughts that to this day haunt me. Unfortunately, she didn't think she was well educated on my anxieties to give me advice, though that didn't stop her from suggesting that I see a therapist.

A fucking shrink.

There was nothing wrong with therapists. Everyone had their own demons to battle but the fact that I couldn't handle them by myself made me feel vulnerable, less emotionally stable. I was broken.

I hate that you were able to do that to me.

"We're all here for a reason," the woman beside me said and I looked to my side. She had pink hair and dark skin, a dazzling smile and bright eyes. I had to look at her twice to make sure she was real. She was very pretty, I'll give her that, but she didn't look like she needed the support group with how healthy and cheery she looked.

Then again, looks can be deceiving.

"Go on," she urged and it wasn't until then did I catch myself staring at her. "We're not going to bite."

"My name is Kareena Bedi. I—I did some bad things," I said, looking away from her and down to my hands. I fumbled with them, not sure exactly what to say. "I didn't know what I was doing until I started hurting people around me... I... I can't do this."

It was hard. It was so fucking hard that I didn't know why or how anyone could put themselves through this. To open yourself, showcase your problems to a bunch of individuals who suffered the same fate or even a worse one, was something that I didn't see would work in the long run. How was anyone going to benefit from this?

But the woman next to me was right. We were all here for a reason. None of us wanted to be here voluntarily but it was our actions, the consequences of our actions to be precise, was what led us here. I took Fiona's advice but instead of seeking out a therapist I decided a support group would be better because something about group counseling versus individual counselling felt less daunting.

"I thought I was in love with this guy," I said, refusing to look at anyone's eyes. Talking about you to bunch of strangers felt, well, strange. "I met him in a pub. He caught me on a really bad day but we got drunk together and really hit it off. We became close friends and it wasn't long before I fell in love with him."

I looked up then and I could taste the bittersweet feeling on my tongue as I spoke. "He never loved me back. Never saw me as anything more than a friend. I was there through many of his flings and then, the flings stopped. He got himself a real girlfriend and I became that green monster."

The woman next to me laughed and I swiveled my head to look at her. Here I was, trying my best to open up and lay my soul bare in front of people I knew for only a few minutes and this woman had the audacity to laugh?

Perhaps she saw the flash of anger in my eyes for she shifted in her chair and pressed her lips tight, giving me a shrug. "You were the psycho ex then?" she questioned like it was most natural thing to ask a person, as if the question was as normal as asking what my name was.

I looked away, uncomfortable with the intensity of her expectant stare. The psycho ex. I wanted to laugh just thinking about those words and so I did. Looking back at her I said, "I would be if I ever actually dated him."

Her lips quirked. "I'm Sasha."

I couldn't help the smile that took a hold of my lips. "Nice to meet you, Sasha."

Jason, who was the group coordinator said, "So tell us more of this green monster you became."

Reluctantly I pulled my gaze away from Sasha and looked at Jason before my eyes took in everyone else. It was then that I realised the look in their eyes was not one of judgement. It was one of understanding and while it didn't ease all the nerves within me, it made me comfortable to know that my horrendous actions were not shared to be judged but were shared to be understood.

For some time, Bradley, I believed you were all I had and even though I didn't personally know any of the strangers seated around me, I realised that I had them too. I had much more. It hurt to think about you but I was tired. I was so very tired in living within this vicious cycle. I needed to move on if I ever wanted to pull myself out of this depressive slump, and I really did want to get on with my life no matter how bleak it had become.

And oh, Bradley, for once there was something I wanted more than you. 

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a/n: another update wohoo! this is me procrastinating doing my work. there's one final chapter left and i'm trying to get it up by this weekend so look out for it. i'd love to hear your thoughts so do drop them in the comment section. 

until next time, xo.