Nightfall
  • WpView
    Reads 350
  • WpVote
    Votes 12
  • WpPart
    Parts 20
WpMetadataReadOngoing52m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Tue, Sep 23, 2014
WpInfo
Fiction
Romance
I didn't notice I had already reached the fourth floor of the building. I always get my ribcage almost broken from inhaling exhaling fast due to climbing long stairs, but the chaos in my thoughts as I took steps made me barely feel anything that is around. 10 minutes late and I jet my way to the corridor nudging everyone on my track and I finally become like Marlon, Nemo's dad, plopped out from struggling to swim escape the flood of jellyfishes. I was composing myself and fixing my gaze straight when the earth turned to slooooowwmooooo-tion. And a smile is running towards me. The wind cooperates, feeding my hair to my mouth. Mother of all one eyed meatballs, he's coming to me! "Number three answer book..?" I blink stupidly. "Did you finish answering number three on your book?" He asks for the second time, face quite amused of my trance. "Uh," I hold my index finger up in the air. "Oh! Right, the poem!" My hands immediately stumble through their way in my bag that's hanging on my shoulder. "Let me hold your ba--" "No need to," I retreat a step, "I'm fine." I hand him the book and walk past him and he follows instantly. Every head turned to us as we entered the door, exchanging looks with each other as if talking telepathically. It's been a year but it feels like it happened only yesterday. The feeling of his hand entwined with mine, now so much of being galaxies apart. He's already on the train while I'm still along the edge of the road, left behind with all the recollections he didn't mind leaving me every inch of them. A year ago, Oliver and I were so much in love with each other.
All Rights Reserved
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
Illustration

You may also like

  • beneath her shadow
  • The world is ending and I have unlimited supplies
  • 𝐔𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟏𝟖+]
  • AND THEN THERE WAS US (BOOK 2)
  • Familiarity
  • I Am Sarah Owens
  • What It Could Have Been
  • Thirst
  • Broken By Mafia

I didn't know I was disappearing until it was almost too late. At first, it was subtle. A missed call here. A joke at my expense there. A delay in responding, followed by a grand explanation that made me feel silly for even asking. You start to wonder if you're imagining things-if your skin has grown too thin, or if the world has always been this cold and you just never noticed. But no, this is different. This is targeted. This is personal. He came to me like a storm pretending to be sunlight. Charming, magnetic, wounded-how I mistook those wounds as something that needed my healing. I didn't know then that narcissistic abuse doesn't always arrive screaming. Sometimes, it tiptoes in wearing the face of love. He said all the right things at the right time, until I stopped trusting my own sense of wrong. The highs were dizzying: he told me I was everything. Special. Unlike anyone he had ever met. He made me feel chosen. And so, I stayed-even when the lows scraped at my bones, even when the words grew sharp and the silence louder than his rage. I didn't see the cage being built because I was too busy decorating it, thinking I was safe inside. The thing about narcissistic pain is that it often masquerades as longing. You ache not just for the person-but for the version of yourself you were when they first looked at you like you mattered. You miss the illusion. You miss the fantasy. And worst of all, you blame yourself when it shatters.

More details
WpActionLinkContent Guidelines