Don't let me go | HEROPHINE

Chapter 12

Josephine's pov:
I have to get out of here. I can't spend another night with him. I dig around in my bag for the car keys and fumble to unlock the car. I waste no time hopping in and switching on the engine. And then I drive away from here. That's what I need- to get away from whatever that was in that restaurant.
That wasn't the Hero that I know and love. My Hero would never be so jealous, so immature. Well, at least that's what I used to think.

Hero's Pov:
The overly friendly waitress continues to ask why I've left most of my food. Like no, goddamn it, I don't want to leave a review to help them improve their service. I practically shove the money into her hands and dash outside.
By the time I've escaped the restaurant, Josephine is long gone. The car park is rather empty, meaning if her car was still here, I'd be able to see it. But it's not.. she's not.

She drove here and has taken the car, so It's just me. Standing here alone, raking my hands through my mess of hair, cursing at myself for acting like such a prick. Why couldn't I have just held it together for her? Been happy for her? Because I'm an idiot, that's why.

I could easily call a cab home, but I don't feel like putting up with nosy driver chat. Plus, I don't deserve anyone's help right now, even if it is just a ride home. So instead, I choose to walk, only my thoughts as company.. and with these kind of things racing through my mind, I think I'd rather have no company at all.

The walk back to our house is just as long and torturing as is expected. Anything I see reminds me of her. The store where we shopped for all our furniture when we first moved in together. The bakery she always forces me into so we can buy flapjacks or brownies. The old woman's ice cream stall that has only two regular customers- Jo and I.
We have so many memories in this place. I thought living here would be a change I'd struggle to adjust to. But now, having lived here for a while, I know it's the best decision I ever made. Wherever Josephine lives is the place for me.

...

Relief washes over me when her car is parked in front of the house. I can't help my brief smile. Maybe she can forgive me, we can talk about this and move forward. I could even suggest going with her to LA.

She was initially told its best if she goes alone.
No one is supposed to know all the secret info about the movie yet, including the star's husband apparently. But it's not like I'm ever on social media, so I wouldn't be about to leak anything online. I could stay with her in her hotel room. It would all be fine.

I'm surprised when the front door is locked. Why wouldn't she leave it open for me? I dig a hand into my pocket to retrieve my key, and promptly unlock the door and step inside.
Immediately, I know something isn't right. It's like the energy is all wrong. And my heart sinks when there's no beautiful girl awaiting my return. I'm the only one here.

I sprint upstairs, far quicker than I knew I was capable, skipping a step with each stride. When I burst into our bedroom, my worst fear comes true. Her suitcase is missing, just like she is.
She didn't even say goodbye. For a second or two, tears threaten my eyes but then I quickly recover and all I see is red.
My body feels like a fucking grenade, about to explode as my hands start to shake in front of me.

'Fuck!' I yell, gripping the nightstand and pulling it over onto the floor with a crash. I watch, pitiless, as the lamp shade is thrown against the wall by my own doing, clattering loudly.. but not nearly loud enough.
I just need this noise to drown out the hatred I'm feeling. And the worst part is, it's hatred for myself. Not her.

I'm breathing heavily and my rage only grows with every object in here that I break or destroy. Then, before I can stop myself, the photo frame is in my hand and colliding with the corner of the only wooden furniture I haven't tipped over in my anger.

The piercing sound of shattering glass rings in my ears, and I collapse to the floor, holding the photograph of us on our wedding day in my shaky hands.

I'm sure I stop breathing momentarily, when I realise what I've done. My emotions are still running high, and all I can think of to calm down is to get out of this room. This room is only fuelling my terrible mood and childish tantrum.

I descend the staircase almost as quickly as I'd climbed it, and that's when I finally crack. My burning eyes- which had previously been supporting a wall to block my tears- give out.
The salty water builds and builds before pouring down my cheeks. God, I'm a baby. I collapse to the ground, head in my hands. I wish there was a switch I could flip, to shut my mind off.. just for a few hours, maybe a day or two.