By Ellie Gunton
“I don’t understand”.
Hot, thick tears cloud my vision and the warm lights of my room swim before me.
“I just don’t…”
His words sound heavy, as though each syllable hurts. I’m on my feet now, cradling the phone to my face, hanging on his every word.
“Please,” my voice quivers, betraying my dawning devastation, “please be honest with me.”
“I…”
The silence peels in my ears. My face begins to flood as the dam cracks.
“Please”. I’m close to sobbing now.
“I just don’t…”
I try to breathe through the sudden pain, my attempts coming out in sharp gasps.
“I just… I’m not…”
I wait for the death knell, the final blow.
“I’m not attracted to you”, he forced out.
Everything stops.
My mind can’t keep up even as his words pierce my heart.
“Oh.”
“I don’t want to hurt you but…”
His artificial explanations turn into a distant drone as I go numb.
3 months. 3 months he had smiled and lied through his teeth. He told me he loved me. He took me to meet his family. I had trusted him with mine.
3 months of words and images of promises and planning roll through my mind, and end-credits roll.
He lied.
Who is this person?
“… and I feel so guilty but I just, I don’t know how this happened…”
I thought I had figured him out, but clearly who I knew was a clever masquerade.
The tears—a torrent—are unstoppable now. Thefuture I had built in my head collapses, and the dust chokes me.
He’s still talking, the sound of his voice buzzing through the phone. I used to wait up to hear him talk. Now all I want is for him to stop.
“Ok, well…” I hear myself blubber as he pauses his ramble, “you shouldn’t try to force anything”, even though being with him had felt effortless.
“Yeah.” He already sounds lighter while I feel 10 times heavier.
“I’m sorry” he sighs. Was I such a burden?
My bloated body hunches as I clumsily fall onto my bed. I look into the mirror, my red blotchy face scrunched, my huge ears and witches nose ballooning before my very eyes.
I’m a monster.
It makes sense.
I cower away from the creature in my reflection and bury my face into my pillow.
“I’m sorry” he repeats.
Automatically, I mumble “it’s ok” even though I’m shaking and the bruising in my chest is growing.
I want this bit to be over.
“We can arrange things later.”
“Ok.”
His battle is done, resolved. But my troops have been forced onto the field.
“Bye.”
A pause. A moment. The death of what could have been a lifetime.
“Bye.”
Everything is too bright and loud in the dim silence. I cover my head with a blanket and sink into the darkness.
