Be My Addiction

43 • Bitter

Don't play the song until the end of the chapter

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Ethan

I felt cornered, like I couldn't breathe. 

Why was it so hard to breathe? 

Eugene didn't try to follow me after I left him in the bathroom, which was good, because I think I would have passed out if I had to spend another second trying to keep calm.

I left the school in a hurry and almost dropped my bag on the way home because it felt like I was being pulled down by what little weight it had. I managed to hold onto it though, mostly because I didn't feel like explaining why all of my missing school work was no longer in my possession.

I darted inside my house, part of me scared of being recognized on the street, even though I knew that was a completely ridiculous fear. No one would recognize me, let alone care about why I was going inside my house.

I just..

I've had too much attention today. I had been pushed around through the halls and humiliated in front of my peers before first hour even started. 

It got worse in class.

No one could hurt me there, but that didn't stop anyone from making things difficult for me. Within the first ten minutes of class starting, I had been scolded for talking.

It probably doesn't surprise anyone, but I hadn't spoken a word. The kid behind me was poking my back and when he got called out, blamed it on me. 

Small things like that happened throughout class. Sure it wouldn't be a problem if it only happened once or twice, but the entire class was in on it, and the teachers obviously didn't care because they probably saw me as some horrible person too.

To avoid the trouble, I skipped second hour. I wasn't going to sit there and let myself be tormented, so I hid in the bathroom. 

That's where Eugene found me.

My eyes began to feel with tears at the memory of the conversation and I quickly went to my room, locking myself away, though there was no need to.

No one was home after all.

I dropped my bag in a corner and looked around my room, desperate for a distraction because I could feel the burn in my eyes from tears. My throat throbbed from emotion. 

I tried to hide away my feelings by shielding it with anger, but it wasn't working.

One breath... another and another. It wasn't working. 

Tears slipped down my cheeks despite my effort.

I couldn’t help it. 

All I could do was cry.

And I know that sounds pathetic, but it wasn’t hard to make me cry. Especially after Brian died. 

Here I was, now. Sitting on my floor crying.

Why?

I was crying because everything in my life had gone to hell. My relationship with my parents. The last bit of any social life I had.

And most importantly, my relationship with Eugene. 

It was obliterated.

At this point, I didn’t know what to do. Or who to blame. I would have blamed Eugene because he was the one who broke up with me. But why? The reason had to be me. Who else could have chased him away?

I thought we were good. I thought we were both happy, but something must have gone wrong because that didn’t last. 

Of course, if he just spoke to me, we could have made it work. If he just talked to me about whatever was bothering him, instead of shutting me out, I could have helped.

So why didn’t he? How could he ask me to be open and willing to talk to him about my addiction when he wouldn’t even talk to me about his problems? How was that fair? And now, the school hated me. They hated me for something I didn’t do, while hating me for something I couldn’t control at the same time.

But Eugene was the one who started it. He was the one who first kissed me, and he was the one who insisted on talking about our relationship. So why isn’t he going through what I am?

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want him to suffer, but it wasn’t fair!

It was as if my existence didn’t have any impact on him at all. He didn’t falter when he left me in that parking lot and he hasn’t made any move to defend me against the rumors.

I guess I get it now. He had his fun with me while it lasted, then threw me away. 

“Of course” I whispered to myself with a bitter chuckle, “He had me wrapped around his finger.” The hot tears were still flowing down my cheeks, and I made no move to stop them, but my sadness slowly replaced itself with anger.

I was angry because nothing seemed to go my way. I was angry because my happiness only lasted for so long before it was stomped out, but I was angry at myself. Because I got myself into this mess. I fell in love and I let my already damaged heart shatter.

Well, I wasn’t going to let that happen anymore. 

My feet moved at the same time as I came to that conclusion. Standing, I walked over to my guitar case before grabbing it and placing it onto my bed. After unsnapping the locks, I opened the box to see the beautiful stained wood. I saw the strings and small designs on the side of its base. Eugene had gotten this for me for my birthday. The first song I ever played on this was a song I played for 

That anger I felt sunk into the pit of my stomach as I recalled that day. That emotion festered and steeped like a hot mass until it was boiling. 

I was done feeling sorry for something that wasn’t meant to be. 

I was tired of missing his touch.

Taking the neck of the guitar, I lifted it from its case, adjusting it in my hands to get a good measure of its weight before I turned to the center of my room. Slow breaths steadied my shaking hands as I lifted the instrument above my head. 

I needed to do this. 

At least, that’s what I told myself. I convinced myself that I needed to destroy what little hold he had left of me so that I wouldn’t be hurt when I smashed the guitar into pieces. 

Even though I tried, when I brought the guitar to my bedroom floor, I couldn’t smash it. 

I couldn’t break something so beautiful or precious to me and I couldn’t let go. 

My resolve crumbled and I slowly sunk to the floor, pulling the guitar to my chest. My cheeks once again filled with streams of my tears as I cried all over again.

That night, I realized I didn’t want to move on like that. 

It was such a violent way of moving on.

It was bitter.

I didn’t want to be emotionless or cold. I had already lived like that, and it wasn’t what I needed.

Instead of breaking that guitar, I slowly positioned it in my lap and played a song.