Black Iris

The Breakup.

3 months earlier

Rose

Jordan was nervous.

We were having lunch in the food court at the mall. She kept glancing around us, flinching whenever strangers walked too close. I had already asked if she was okay if she wanted to leave, but she shook her head, not meeting my eyes.

I knew that it was hard for her to be with me. She hated that it was, and she would never admit it, but I could see it with my own eyes. I had seen her from afar, happy and carefree with our other friends, but when I came near, her smile would drop, and the fear would creep in.

It didn't hurt me that she was like this. I knew she wasn't scared of me. She was just afraid of what might happen to me. Of what had happened to me.

"Do you want to go home?" I asked again after I caught her glancing nervously at a man sitting at a table behind us. His hair was a similar colour to Blake's.

"No, I'm fine." She said quietly. Then, quickly she looked up at me and asked, "Why, do you want to go home? Are you feeling alright? Did something trigger you?"

I shook my head, cringing. I saw her face crease with hurt, but she quickly looked away, pretending like nothing was wrong. I let out a sigh. "I'm fine, Jordan. Really. My therapist says that I'm doing really well. She thinks that the book really helped me."

She stiffens, the way that she does every time I mention the book. Initially, Jordan was on board with my writing, just like everyone else. But when it finally came out, it hurt her, a lot. Not because I wrote something terrible about her, but because she couldn't bear knowing what I had been through. I think before that, in her head, she pictured my kidnapping as some kind of lousy holiday, numbing it down so that she could cope. But the book being out there, even if she promised me she had and never would read it, made her face the truth.

The truth that she left me in that Target carpark, and she would never be able to forgive herself for that.

When she looked at me, I knew that was all she saw. Her cavernous regret seeped through her, tainting our whole relationship.

I knew that I needed to let her move on, even though it hurt.

Which is why I turned to her and said what I did next.

"Jordan... I think we should break up." I said, trying to ignore how much those words hurt. Trying to paste on a steely persona.

Relief flashed across her face. Then guilt. "Oh. Was it something I said?"

"No, of course not. It's just... I can't be in a relationship right now. The investigation, and the therapy, and the recovery. It's a lot to handle, and it's not fair of me to put you through everything that I'm going through."

"I don't mind. I want to support you." She said quietly. I sighed, gently taking her hand across the table.

"I know you do, Jordan. But right now, the best way to support me is to let me go. I need some time to stand on my own. Clear my head." I said, giving her a reassuring smile.

She looked down at her food and slowly nodded. "Okay. But just know that if you ever need to talk about something, I'm here for you. You're still my best friend."

I nodded, my smile tight. "Of course."

We fell into an awkward silence, just eating for a few minutes. Then, finally, I cleared my throat and stood.

"I just have to go to the restroom," I said, managing to keep my voice even.

She nodded silently, focusing on her food. I hesitated, wanting to say something else, wanting to console her in some way, but I couldn't think of anything that would make any of this better. So I just pursed my lips and turned away, hugging my arms and forcing down my emotions as I walked towards the bathroom.

It was only once I got there, and I was out of sight that I let my facade drop. The tears welled up, and I let them come. I dashed into the nearest cubicle and slammed the door, falling against it defeatedly as I clenched my eyes shut.

The feeling of the door against my back conjured up memories I would prefer to forget.

The stairs, dropping below me. My hand on the doorknob, trying desperately to get out. A figure at the bottom of the stairs, smirking.

"Did you really think you could run from me, my rose?"

No, I told myself, pulling away from my memories and opening my eyes. I wasn't there anymore. I was safe.

I took a shaky breath and pushed down a sob, wiping at my wet cheeks. Once I felt composed enough, I leant across and flushed the toilet, just in case anyone was listening, then let myself out. There was another lady that came out of the cubicles at the same time, but I kept my head down and avoiding looking. As I was washing my hands, she spoke.

"Are you alright, love?" She said, in a concerned voice.

"I'm fine," I said, quietly, focusing on the water. I didn't want to have this conversation, and I hoped that the lady would figure that out.

She didn't. "Are you sure? You look pretty rattled."

I nodded, forcing my lips into a smile and looking up at her. "Yep. I'm fine, thank you."

Recognition bloomed on her face. "Hey, you're that girl from the news, aren't you? Taking on Blake Ivy, right?"

I went cold. I turned off the tap and shook my head.

"I'm sorry, did I upset you?" She said, concerned. "I really think it's a great thing you're doing. For what it's worth, I believe you."

I didn't even bother drying my hands.

Back in the chaos of the food court, I looked across the room at Jordan, who was staring vacantly at her food. I should have gone over there, and apologised, comforted her in some way. But I couldn't. I couldn't face her.

So instead I turned and walked the other way. Through the mall, and to the exit. Through the carpark, and down the road. I wasn't really sure where I was going. My house was up in the foothills, there was no way I could walk all the way there.

I don't think I wasn't heading home, anyway. I didn't want to go back there.

I think I just wanted to run.

So I did.