The Other Side

Chapter 2

Sunlight filtered through the room, casting warm beams that danced on the walls as she slowly regained consciousness. Blinking away the disorientation, she murmured, "How long have I been out?" Her gaze wandered around, finding comfort in the streaks of sunlight leaking through the curtains.

"Well, it's already noon. I thought you were in your bed last night when you went to sleep. What happened to you?" Concern marked his eyes and resonated in his tone as he questioned her.

Brushing aside the inquiry, she rose to her feet, determined to shake off the lingering effects of whatever had overcome her. Yet, before she could take another step, Joshua's firm grip on her arm brought her to a halt.

"You're avoiding the question, and you're not going to work today. I called your boss and told him you won't be in. I said I found you passed out on the floor," he declared, his tone carrying authority. Rolling her eyes, she yanked her arm away, settling back into her seat.

"What gives you the right to call in sick for me?" she snapped, eyes narrowing with irritation. Joshua sighed, a hint of frustration in his gaze as he met her eyes, arms crossed defensively.

"I'm your boyfriend, and I happen to despise your boss. The way he eyes you, like a wolf ready to pounce on a helpless lamb – I can't stand it," he explained. Her frustration intensified, and she turned away from him, crossing her arms.

"I can handle him on my own. I don't need you fighting my battles," she retorted, her back turned defiantly.

"Stop avoiding the real question. What happened that you ended up passed out on the floor?" His anger grew palpable with each unanswered question.

"I've kept this hidden since day one of our relationship, and for that, I'm sorry," she confessed, casting her gaze downward. His expression remained stoic, urging her to continue. Taking a deep breath, she averted her eyes, focusing on anything but Joshua.

"Remember how I ask you the same question repeatedly? It's because of my mental illness – anxiety. But now, I don't have it," she confessed, glancing up at him. He opened his mouth to respond but closed it again. Panic flickered in her eyes as she pleaded, "Say something, please."

"What do you mean, 'had'?" he asked, emphasizing the word with air quotations.

"It's no longer just in my head; it's a real creature now. That's why I passed out – I had an attack, and it caused it. But now it's gone, and I know it'll come back for me," she explained, breathless. She looked down, realizing the creature had left marks on her arms, similar to those she made when she struggled with self-harm. "See, it marked me!" she exclaimed, revealing her arms to him. He looked horrified and stood up abruptly.

"Angel, you really are an attention seeker, aren't you?" he accused, disbelief evident in his voice.

"That's not it—"

"It's exactly that, Angel. You didn't have to make excuses, especially one like that, just to get my attention," he stated, turning away from her, heading for the door. She reached for him, desperation in her touch, but he pulled away, coldly declaring, "We're over, Angel."

His words hung in the air, and she felt the weight of their relationship crumbling. Hot tears streamed down her face as she protested, "I was honest with you, and you break up with me as if the last few months meant nothing to you?"

He turned to face her, anger and betrayal etched on his features. Walking closer, he spat, "You fake having an illness – it's all in your damn head. Quit faking it and face reality!" His scream echoed in the room, and she backed into a wall, terrified.

"It's not fake," she whispered, barely audible. Hanging her head, she shielded her tears from his view.