Y/N's POV: (Neighbour)
"So what, all those fucking years meant nothing to you?!" I cry out, his blank stare breaking my heart even more.
"I just- look, you've gotta' understand I needed more." He sighs.
"More what?" I hiss.
"I haven't touched you in how long?!" He yells.
"Since I lost our fucking baby, that's how long you cunt!" I scream, grabbing the nearest thing to me, which was a vase, and threw it at him. Unfortunately, he caught it.
"You have to move on babe, it happened but what're you gonna' do?" He sympathetically shrugs.
"Get the fuck out of my house." My voice dangerously low. "Your stuff will be outside in the morning for you to pick up. Don't even tell me to get over the death of my fucking son." I demand, pointing to the door.
"Stop being ridiculous." He rolls his eyes.
"OUT! Not only are you being fucking disrespectful about the death of my baby but you slept with some WHORE because I wouldn't fuck you?! You're a fucking piece of shit and don't even act surprised that I'm kicking you out." I tell him.
"Whatever bitch, you ain't never gonna' find someone like me." He huffs, slowly exiting the house.
"That's kind of the point, dip shit!" I snort as he slams the door shut.
I run my hands through my sweaty hair before collapsing onto the floor, drowning in my tears.
I just couldn't do it.
I wasn't enough for him.
I thought that after a while I'd be able to love him the way he wanted me to but I just couldn't.
I'd never have that feeling, that excitement to feel his pleasure, so I just pushed him away.
I didn't want any relationships of mine to be just about sex.
Of course, sex is fun and enjoyable but when you do it with that person, that special someone, it's a bliss.
At first, he was great. I loved him and I think he loved me. We went through so much shit together but nothing broke us apart.
We made each other so happy, he proposed to me with a beautiful diamond ring.
That's when I found out I had a little baby boy in my tummy.
The joy and excitement I felt was so overwhelming in the best possible way.
I was gonna' be a mummy.
Was.
Due to my past with a bad eating disorder, the chances of me getting pregnant were mere, but being pregnant, that meant there will mostly likely be complications with the child.
I was obviously devastated but I put that upon myself and I shall fight through it too, at least that's what I thought.
I lost the baby.
Since then, everything just kept going down the hill.
I became depressed, really depressed. I wouldn't come out of bed for days, food wasn't even considered to be something I should think about. I felt as if I died with that baby.
Then, the love of my life started to have his fits, telling me how I'm not the only one suffering, it was his baby too but I just ignored him so he started going out.
And when he actually came back the same night, he'd be all smiley and cocky.
I knew he was cheating all along but today I just felt like he thought I was stupid. He had the decency to walk around with hickeys on his neck. They were crystal clear and he didn't even bother putting on a shirt to cover up the scratches of pleasure on his back.
