61

I deserve that. I don’t know what to say to you. I’ve been a coward for days because I can’t face you. I guess we both know what’s going to happen in a week’s time. I don’t know how to say the words to you, or how to say sorry for what I’m going to do. In that one little statement he confirms my worst fears and solidifies my decision. Ripping what’s left of my shredded mutilated heart out, and stomping on it all over the floor until there’s nothing left but mess. He’s chosen to go through with marking her and this is his goodbye. His confirmation.

Then don’t. Maybe just leave me alone until it’s done, and then we’ll see what happens from there. I need to go. I have to go do chores. I lie, trying to sound tough. Mentally scathing in tone, even if my body is starting to shake with the buildup of sobbing coming my way. Trembling as I try to hold it in, breathing fast and shallow. Throwing cold and snappy in there, while my limbs are quaking with the effort, but I can’t let him know what it is I am planning on doing. He would stop me, even with his mind made up. His need to protect me would overrule everything else.

Right, chores, of course. I have to go assemble for patrol in a couple hours too. Enjoy your chores…. I guess, I’ll see you around. He lingers, saying it slowly as though looking for a reason to not let this end.

Yeah, you too. Now I gotta go. Bye. I don’t give him a chance, to linger more, or to reply, sensing his hesitation so I take control. I’m the one to close the door on our connection and shut it down dead as I do. Doing something I haven’t ever done to him, it was always him that did it to me, metaphorically shutting it, bolting it tight, and pushing the soundproofing button on our link so he can’t come back anymore. I don’t want him getting through, I mentally lock it and toss the key aside. I’m not going to lie, it feels like I just stabbed myself in the chest with a dull object, and I gasp sob when the dead silent noise consumes that part of my mind. It’s horrendous to know I’m the one to cut him off but I have to do this for my own sanity, I can’t have him popping into my brain anymore. Never again.

I stop for a moment to process the conversation, and despite trying so hard to be strong, I end up sitting on the floor under the full force of my shower head, and sobbing my heart out until I can’t breathe with the effort. The doubts start to slide in, and I have to keep chastising myself for being so stupid.

This is why he’s stayed away, because it makes both of us weak and clouds our judgment. I should have known seeing him would push him to contact me. It’s harder when we do, especially touching, and we did when we collided. I probably played on his mind after I left because of that simple moment, and I’m just as pathetic, sitting here crying over him. I shouldn’t have responded to him at all, he shouldn’t have reached out. It’s just proof that our bond is powerful, no matter what we try to do, and neither can control the way it keeps bringing us back together.

I hate the fates and this infernal bond. It’s messing up everything and I’ve no control over my feelings anymore. I thought I was strong, but when it comes to him, I’m an idiot. I’m a fool for him in every way, and I can’t even stay mad, or hateful, no matter what he does, because the second I get a chance at connecting, I let him. I shouldn’t have left the link open all week; I should not have let myself get taken in for even a second. It should have been done the second I decided I was leaving and not given him a window of opportunity. I won’t make that mistake again, for sure.

I yank myself up, pull my head out of my ass and aggressively wash down while refusing to break down anymore. It’s the past. It’s not where I need to be mentally.

I wash my face until it feels raw, wiping away tears I don’t want to cry anymore, and shampoo my hair with vigor as though cleansing my head of thoughts and feelings. I finish up fast, tug a towel on when I step out, and focus all my efforts on drying quickly, rubbing my hair as dry as I can get it, before combining it into a sleek ponytail and pulling on fresh underwear and clothes. I slide on jeans, a tank, and sweater, pull on some socks, and sneakers, and take a last look around the room for anything I want to add to my backpack.

I tidy my room, make the bed, and then lay down on top of it and try to force myself to take a nap to kill some time, staring blankly at the ceiling and refusing to let my mind wander back to him, us, or this crappy situation.

There’s a noise outside my door that makes me flinch, and I pause, stare at it, praying to god he hasn’t decided to come here and start this shit all over again. It’s what he does… and I hold my breath, listen intently, my own heart beating loudly in my own ears as panic sets in.