Chapter 11

I could feel my eyebrows meeting at the center of my forehead as I stared at the man sitting now on the chair in my apartment. It was my only seat, and he sat on it as if he owned it after entering the place I was renting.

He sits comfortably on the hard chair with his legs crossed and his elbow resting on the table as he lays his temple on it

I don’t know why he came here. Unannounced at that. If I could remember it correctly, I made it clear to him that I don't want any more of our interaction and connection.

I was surprised by his presence when he was the one I opened the door for earlier after I put away the things that Katiya and I had bought. I wasn't expecting anyone, much more this man. I didn't even invite him to enter my apartment but he invited himself in. And before I could even realize it, he's already inside and sitting.

“What are you doing here?” I asked with a knotted forehead.

I took an Indian seat on my bamboo bed because there were no other seats available. I only have one chair and it's now being occupied by my unwelcome visitor.

“Just checking you out,” he answered, not looking at me. He scanned the ceiling of my apartment before settling his eyes on me. “How have you been for the past two days, Hope?”

My eyebrows arched at what he called me. I’m not used to being called by that name. People preferred calling me by my first name, Prescilla.

Hearing him calling me Hope feels foreign and it sounded new to my ears. I wanted to correct him but I stopped myself. There is nothing wrong with how he called me and it is not so bad to hear my other name from other people.

“I’m doing good. And, obviously and unfortunately, still alive,” I said nonchalantly.

His forehead immediately met at one point when he looked at me with disapproval. “Don’t make it sound that bad, Hope.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. I couldn’t understand any of his words.

“Living. Life.”

I scoffed. I shook my head and lay on my hard bed. I used my two arms as my pillow and stared at my ceiling full of spider webs. “Because life is bad and ruthless as it is. Even better in the book, no matter how painful the process and the characters went through, there is a good chance that when it comes to the end they will still be happy. But in reality, life is harsh and so is the end to some.”

“Maybe because you are with the wrong male lead,” he rebutted. “Maybe he's just a part of your life, not meant to be your endgame. And someone else is meant to be with you until the end of your lifetime.”

“And who could that be?” I laughed sarcastically. “You?” I spat that earned me his silence.

The silence he offered for the both of us made me think of the words I need to say to Harris when I meet him. Also, I need to condition myself and my heart for it to be brave enough to receive all the brutal words from Harris. I might be used to it, but that doesn't make it hurt less.

I can no longer even understand myself these passing days. I knew to myself that one way or another, we would never get back together. Even if he finds out the truth, he will never go back to my life and continue the story we left in our past. Even if I fight, there is still no end. Even if I look like a fool begging him for his forgiveness, he will never come back.

That's our reality.

I am just fighting for us because I don't want to throw away all the years we've been together. The five-year relationship we have was unfortunate. I don't want the memories we have shared and the years we have been together gone to waste. So even though I'm lowering myself way too much for him, I'd still do.

That way I'd be able to proudly tell myself that I went all out and there's no need to blame myself for not doing everything in my power.

And maybe one of the reasons why I am still holding is to lessen the guilt that I am feeling. I have to give him that, the effort in making it work even if it seems impossible.

That way, somehow I could say that I did everything, that I gave everything. I need to be all out when it comes to this. For me not to have any more regret because of what our lives had turned out. That if ever he'll throw shade at me and blame me with his accusations, I could say that I did everything to fight for what we had that Harris has been disregarding since eternity.

“How many attempts have you committed?” he carefully asked, breaking the silence that was surrounding the whole apartment.

I didn't look at him but my mind is already working to count my attempts. Seconds and minutes passed, but my mind wasn't able to come up with an accurate answer.

“Too many to mention?” he prompted.

“I guess, yes,” I said while nodding my head slowly.

“Since when did it start?” he asked again.

I inwardly bit my tongue to stop myself from speaking. I took a deep breath and blew it out softly using my mouth, calming myself in the process.

It was as if my heart was suddenly pounding violently when memories flooded my mind. It was taking me back to the time when I first slit my wrist. The pain I felt that day came back as if it only happened yesterday. The reason behind the first blood I drew to myself.

I know what path he's taking me. I would know because someone also tried, but didn't succeed. My Dad once attempted to make me talk about my attempts and suggested taking me to a psychiatrist he knew to save me.

But he, unsurprisingly, immediately grew tired of waiting for my answers even though only a few hours had passed since the conversation started. He gave up.

“You can talk to me, you know,” he said, catching my attention once again.

I looked at him as my back remained on the bed. “I won't talk to you, you know. Not to anyone.”

“Why, Hope?” He shook his head with his gentle eyes still locked on my face. “Why are you so hard on yourself?”

I matched the stares he was giving me, I didn't back down even though he was starting to make me feel uncomfortable. His gray-colored eyes are glistening with sadness and care. With gentleness. If it was for me and my situation, I don't know.

The dimness of his eyes looking at me was talking and seemed to be begging me to open myself up to him.

Which is something that is inevitable happen if he continues to do so. This is something that I want. A person that would be all ears as I take the heavy load off of my chest. Someone who would care, something that I wasn't able to experience since Harris left.

But I knew that I need to continue my plan. And certainly knew that I should be stern in avoiding him.

“If I could think of a better word to say that I deserve to suffer, then I would gladly say it to you. But for now, that's my only answer to your question.” I smiled faintly at him. “I deserve everything. Every scar, every pain, every droplet of blood escaping my body, and a lot more.”

“You’re wrong on that,” he replied. “No one deserves to suffer like how you're punishing yourself.”

“You are wrong, Waldo,” I strongly objected. “People like me, sinners, deserve every hard and brutal punishment this life could give. May it be done by karma or may we be the one doing it to ourselves. In my case, I am punishing myself. I chase it. I own it.”

He sighed, and the way he released his breath seemed like he was not happy with my answer.

But I can't do anything about it. I don't want to sugarcoat my life with fantasies that would never happen, not even in the next century.

Life isn’t a fairytale and so is mine. Especially with the things that have happened and the wrongdoings I have done.

“I’ll get going,” he announced.

I quickly got up from lying and immediately approached him. I didn't say anything, I just stood a few steps away from him and watched him fix his long sleeves and suit on his one arm.

When he had finished fixing himself, he turned his gaze to me. There was an evident concern in his eyes as he looked at me intently.

I forced myself not to get affected by the way he cared. I did my best not to let myself be consumed with the warmth I am feeling with him.

“Leave,” I said quickly.

He sighed again. I thought he was leaving but I was wrong because he took his cellphone from his pocket. “Give me your number.”

My eyebrows furrowed again because of his weird actions. "Why would I do that?"

His forehead furrowed. “Why not?”

I shook my head as an answer. I don’t want to make the bridge connecting us any longer. And giving him my number would just make us have a connection.

He stared at me intently before reaching for my hand and placing the device he was holding. "What are you doing?" I asked in astonishment.

“Use it. Reformat it or whatever. I'll call you through that.”

“I don’t need this,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Keep it. You don’t want to give me your number so this is the only way I have to contact you. Answer my calls,” he commanded.

Before I could object again and be able to leave my apartment. My eyes dropped to the expensive cell phone I was now holding. It actually looks brand new.

Confusion filled me. Why didn't he just let me? He has no responsibility to me so why would he act like this. He'll get through a day even without me. So, why the hell does he act as if I am his obligation?