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35. Bryanna
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Always 36. Bryanna
Something somewhere is startling me, waking me up. I can't figure out my whereabout. I can't remember the last thing I did. Where am I? Until at last my skin picks up the feeling of the hard and cold surface beneath me. So my best bet is I'm on the floor. That must be why, after I gain more consciousness, I'm feeling like my limbs are made of wood, looking at how stiff they are.I sit up so, so, so slowly and groggily. The world starts to spin a little. Damn. My head hurts something fierce.Damn it. Everything hurts. Why? I try to lift my lids, to open my eyes, but it's like someone had glued them together. My eyeballs keeps rolling behind my lids. I feel them shaking. But, they won't budge. It sure is a highly challenging task to do.After some real efforts, in the end, I succeed. From behind my half closed eyes, I see the room I'm in is pretty dark, the only light is from the bulb on the corridor outside that filters in and gives my tired hazels a chance to recognize my surround
Always 37. Bryanna
It has been three weeks since the last time I saw Nate. No. To be more precise, it has been three weeks and five hours since the day he walked out of his apartment, walked out of my life. It has been three weeks and five hours of me trying to get up every morning and feel okay instead of feeling like a walking corpse. Numb. It has been three weeks and five hours of me faking smiles in front of the world, enchanting those clients with my power suits and bravado only to be a messy, pathetic, and heartbroken girl behind my apartment's door. It has been three weeks and five hours of me calling Nate's number to no avail. I really meant nothing to him. It hurts. It hurts like hell to acknowledge this fact even though my mind have been repeating it again and again and again. It hurts to acknowledge it. And to accept it? It's another story all together. It is like I'm dying a painful death. Hanging from the ceiling, both of my hands tied at the wrists, and someone sliced my skin just dee
Always 38. Bryanna
I slept eight hours straight for the first time in three weeks. Maybe it have something to do with my best friend's presence—she's still sleeping and hogging the bed, by the way, that girl—or, it's just that I feel so much lighter after unloading my baggage last night. Poor best friend had to listen to all of that. Maybe that's why she's still asleep. My drama is keeping her tied to the bed. Or, she's just dealing with her food coma. We couldn't be so sure which one is right with her. I pad to the kitchen and color me not so surprise to see Tom already sits on one of the stool, a steaming mug of coffee on the breakfast bar in front of him, phone in his hand. "Good sleep?" he asks, diverting his vision from the screen to me. I am met with dark pools of understanding. It's comforting and terrifying at the same time. This guy. Morwenna is sooo lucky to have him for better or worst."Yeah," I croak, then clear my throat. I haven't brush my teeth. I haven't wash my face. Even my hair
Always 39. Bryanna
Work was distracting. New projects gave me reasons to not think about anything else. They were quite exhausting so when I came home from work what I did was sleep. No time to think about that guy who broke my heart. Nope. I'm not going to touch that. If my weekdays were filled with work things, my weekends were capitalized by this creature I—now am not so happily—called best friend. She forced me to get out of the bed early—it was noon, but when you were slaving your butt off ten hours a day on weekday wearing heels, noon is considered early—and dragged these said tired butt around to shop. And, thank God, it's a 'getting pampered time' this time. "Oh, God," I groan, feeling the heaven the masseuse brings me to as her hands moves to loosen my tight back muscles. Eh, scratch the last word. Do my back have muscles? I don't think I have one in my entire body. "Don't come," jests the girl who made torturing her best friend a hobby from the bed beside me. The masseuse, I caught a g
Always 40. Bryanna
"I think I'm done." I wake up from the stupor I was in and put the milkshake back onto the table at last. Then I clean my hands with the napkin. Dump the dirty paper on my plate. At the very last, I paste the fakest smile on my face and direct it to Mo. She knows. She knows what I'm honestly asking of her. Get me out of here. She slaps the same fake smile as quick. However it is a little slanted, making her look like she's battling constipation right now. My smile morphs into something a bit more real. Only her. I internally shake my head. But, I still need to get out of this hell, like five seconds ago."Linc, can we get these boxed? I'm sorry, but suddenly I have this urge to eat at home where I can stretch my legs and watch some bad TV with my best friend. You know, enjoying the good life."What the heck? What is she talking about? Only her. Indeed, only MY best friend. "Okay." Lincoln's voice pictures his bewilderment perfectly. I still don't have the nerve to look at him.
Always 41. Bryanna
"Fuck, this is hard. Why is this so hard?" "Well, good morning to you too." I follow her into my apartment. It's only nine in Saturday morning. I should be sleeping, soundly, on my bed. Instead I'm waking up to this woman's hectic call telling me that she wants me to open the apartment door for her myself. She still have her key though. You need to know that. Get why I'm a tiny bit pissed at my best friend? My best friend who is all curled up on the couch now. And still whining. "Why, why, why?" I sit my sleepy butt on the coffee table. "What happened?" She whines some more. My brows slowly takes a hike to my forehead. Well, this is unusual. "Mo, what's going on?""There's nothing going on. Nothing happened," she chokes from behind her palms.Reaching out, I pull her hands with mine. Red rimming her wet eyes. Worry starts to color my face. "Then what is it?" She huffs, wipes her eyes, and sits up. Casting her gaze down on her lap, she explains, "I just got my period after a wee
Always 42. Bryanna
Fuck. I'm pregnant. The last nine pregnancy tests on the sink said I am. The last one, the tenth out of ten I hurriedly bought this morning, now I'm holding in my trembling hand says the same.I'm fucking pregnant. How? Shit. I didn't just ask that. I know the how. I know the why. I know for sure the who. I just ... can't wrap my mind around it. Fuck. Shit.I touch my still flat stomach with shaking hands. I am pregnant. I have a baby in me. A baby is growing in my belly. What the fuck should I do? I really have to stop cussing. It's not good for the baby, is it? Fu—God! I'm having a baby? My feet feels weak. I totally should sit on this. Where do I sit? Here, on the bathroom floor? Oh, okay. I can't be thinking about all the germs in time like this. I really, really, really need to sit before my legs give out. Please, don't. I can't add falling into the things that will giving bad impact for the baby. Me freaking out right now is enough stress. I think. Right? RIGHT? O
Always 43. Bryanna
NowShe darts through the apartment and be in my room in a speed of light. "Tell me you listened to me," she demands as soon as she's here.I am leaning back against the head of the bed with pillows supporting my back and going through social media like nothing happened. I mean, nothing had happened if I consider what I did as nothing. Right?"Bry!" She snatches my phone away. "Hey!" I exclaim, sitting up. "I know you're upset but can you please not take it out on my phone?""Tell me you didn't do anything stupid," she insists. Her beautiful eyes penetrates me, searching for the truth from deep inside of me. She, like hundreds of times before, sees everything. "You did, didn't you?"Gotcha. But I keep my eyes on hers. "Why, Bry? Why? He's a jerk! You've been good these past months. You're better. You're happy again. Why?" I shrug. She's still waiting for my answer. She gets none of it. "That's it?" she gawks at my response. "I'm worrying myself sick about you and you just shrug
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