Don't Do It

T h i r t y - o n e

•Arianna's POV•

"I don't want another night of trying to find another you, another rock bottom

I don't want to wear another mini dress to impress a potential problem

I don't wanna spend the night at someone's place to fill the space that you used to walk in

I don't want another number in my phone to wanna hold at three in the morning

I don't want somebody like you
I only want you, I only want you, yeah."

Okay, if I listen to anymore of Rita Ora I think I'm going to puke. I don't even remember downloading that stupid song, yet when I'm brokenhearted it's the first song that plays when my songs are set on shuffle. I change the song without hesitating. It's quiet for a few seconds until the music blasts in my ears.

"Found you when your heart was broke
I filled your cup until it overflowed
Took it so far to keep you close
I was afraid to leave you on your own."

Woah.

Now it's Halsey?

Not being able to stand the torture any longer, I groan irritably, pulling the earphones out of my ears. I've been laying on my bed for less than five minutes and these songs already want to make me commit suicide. I have got to get out of here.

Jumping off of my bed, I head out the door and make my way to the kitchen. I don't know if it's just me but when I'm stressed or angry I turn to food. Comfort food is my favourite - it satisfies every organ in my body, plus food is the one thing that will never betray you. Food will always be there for you . . . unless it's almost the end of the month and the cupboards are practically empty.

The faint aroma of popcorn fills my nostrils, making me close my eyes for a few seconds. I'm suddenly in the mood to watch a soppy romcom. Being a girl is confusing. One minute I'm crying and sad, the next minute I'm craving food and want to watch a movie. "Ari?"

My eyes open. Mom's puffy hair is the first thing I see. Her eyes are red, so is her nose, and I can immediately tell she has a cold. She's still in her evening wear, even though it's three in the afternoon, on a Friday. A very large bowl of popcorn is in her hands. She throws me a small smile, before she eventually ends up laughing. "I know it looks like I'm dying, but I'll be fine."

On a normal occasion, that would have made me laugh so hard that my insides would have been hurting. I try so hard to give her a fake smile, to make myself happy, but I just can't. My body is shaking, my breathing has slowed down. I can feel my heart detonating into shreds. I absolutely can't pretend to be okay.

I'm hurt.

It's as if Mom can tell I'm broken because she holds my hand and gently pulls me towards the couch. I sit down with her as she rests the bowl onto the coffee table in the living room. I take in a deep breath, shutting my eyes for a split second, and that's when the tears come pouring out.

"Let it out, honey." Mom whispers before wrapping her arms around me, enveloping me in a warm hug. With my head on her firm chest, I cry like a baby. She rubs my back soothingly and kisses my forehead, waiting patiently for me to say something, anything. "Talk to me."

I sniffle quietly. "There was this guy I was seeing, Mom. We were so happy together for a while until I cheated on him." I confess, biting my lip in shame. Mom remains silent. This is the first time I'm telling her about Dylan. "He was shocked when I told him," I continue, "so was I."

"You told him?" Mom utters, still rubbing my back. "Why?"

"I loved him enough to tell him the truth . . . But now I regret it." I admit to myself.