The Break-Up, Part 2

I storm around my apartment with a box tucked under my arm, collecting Blade's belongings. Though he doesn't live with me, he sure has a lot of things lying around my place. Each of his items I collect drives a wedge of unease deeper into the pit of my stomach. He won't be happy. He'll fight me. He'll argue his right to stay. He'll try and intimidate me until I cave. I need to remain strong. For my future, and the future I want.

When I've grabbed everything he owns, I run downstairs and place the box on the drive. I whirl on my heel to face my house, only to be stopped by the gentle hum of an engine and a set of headlights as they cast my shadow against the white weatherboard wall. Panic punches me in the gut and seizes my lungs. He's here.

"Olivia?" Blade shouts, demanding my attention. "What're you doing?"

I drag an inhale through my nose and blow it out between my lips, calming my racing heart. Forcing the panic and apprehension to melt from my face, I turn to look at him. Blade steps out from behind the yellow sedan's backdoor. He pulls a handful of cash from the front pocket of his denim jeans, and tosses the money into the driver's window. Kicking the backdoor shut, he dips his head into the front window to speak to the man before waving him off and jogging over to where I stand. I don't know why I wait for him. I don't know why I don't send him away with the taxi.

"Baby," he pleads, running his fingers through his dark, blond hair. His eyelids are heavy with the effects of the alcohol he drank, his skin gross and clammy. "Don't do this. I love you."

"You love me?" I ask, proud my voice remains calm. I plant my hands on my hips. "It makes me sick how easy you lie through your teeth."

I turn away from him as a lump forms in my throat. I've never been good at holding my own when it comes to confrontation and Blade knows how to break me down. He knows how to twist me into getting what he wants-better than anybody.

He snatches my elbow in his vice grip and I wince as he spins me around with surprising force, sending sharp pain up my arm to my shoulder.

"You're hurting me," I snap in a harsh whisper, afraid to disturb my neighbors. "Let me go."

He cuts his eyes and leans in close, so close I smell his hot, alcohol-filled breath as it skitters across my face. There's no sympathy in his expression, no regret or compassion. Only anger.

I stare into his small, blue eyes, then down his face to his thin lips. My eyebrows lift of their own accord as faint, pink lipstick smeared from the corner of his mouth to his jawline, catches my attention. Tears pool in my eyes and I hate it. I hate that his unfaithfulness hurts. I hate I can feel its sharp edge cuts through me. All this time and he still manages to break my heart? Am I that pathetic?

"You're disgusting," I spit, struggling to pull my arm free. "Let me go!"

"I'm not done." He squeezes me harder and I hiss as my muscle forcefully compresses under my flesh. "What would you do without me? Where would you be without me?"

"I'd be happy." I hold my breath and yank on my arm, finally pulling it free. I gasp in relief and clasp my elbow, cradling my arms close to my chest. "Leave me alone before I call the police."

Blade barks out a loud, vicious laugh, tilting his head back and exposing his teeth. I frown.

"You think you'll find someone who'll put up with your clingy ass like I do? Hm?" He simpers. "You think you'll find someone who'll only want to fuck you in the missionary position?"

What the hell is he talking about? Screwing my face up, I open my mouth to protest. "We don't only have sex in the-"

"The point is, you're plain, Olivia. You're boring. You've got nothing to offer anyone." He sneers, enjoying every second he runs me through the wringer. "I've stuck it out with you because I felt sorry for you. Don't be an idiot and throw away the best thing that'll ever happen to you over a ruined dinner and some whores from a club."

I flinch and a weird tingling sensation builds up in my throat. I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth to ease the threat of hysteria bubbling in my chest. To think this bitter, narcissistic, unappreciative asshole is supposed to be my better half.

I swallow hard and step forward. Blade's thin lips quirk.

"If I'm such a bad catch, why are you so upset?" I ask.

His face darkens, morphing into an ugly scowl, and his eyebrows draw together like the dark clouds of an impending thunderstorm.

"I'm not upset. I'm fucking relieved." He curls his lips, baring his teeth. "Break up with me, I don't give a damn. You'll come crawling back and, when you do, I'm gonna slam the door in your face."

I walk away from him. A dreadful heat spreads under my skin as I go, an anxious heat that pushes me closer to the edge of heartbreak. He shouts after me and, God, my heart hurts. It squeezes and expands until my ribs ache with the pressure, but I keep my shoulders squared, my head high, and I make my way up the small, white stairs.

"I don't need you!" he booms. "Maine is crawling with better girls, and I picked up two of them tonight! Did you hear me? Two! I don't fucking need you!"

I throw my front door open and storm inside, slamming it closed behind me. Exhaling loudly, I drop against the hard wood. How does someone, who used to be so sweet, become so damn hateful? What happened? I lift my hands in front of my face and watch them tremble violently. Did I do it to him? Am I as bad as he claims?

My chest heaves painfully, tears spill over the rims of my eyes, and I choke on a sob. Groaning, I cup my face tightly in my hands. The worst part about all of this? It won't be the end of it. He'll continue to emotionally batter me until I crack and accept him back into my life.

That can't happen this time. I can't let it.

I won't let it.