35. Bones
CHAPTER 35
BONES
I did it. I broke Skylar Warren’s heart. I finally made him give up on me.
I tell myself it’s for the best as the whiskey glass tumbles to the counter from my numb fingers as I sit in darkness. Is he across the hall now, thinking of me? Or has he already moved on, forgetting me inside another?
The thought sends agony splintering through me, and I grab the bottle, downing it before letting it hit the counter.
I’m alone once more, but that’s fine. That’s how it should be. Everyone I love is better off without me. They leave for a reason. I am unlovable. No, it’s better this way. It’s how I’ve always been.
Alone.
I choose to be . . .
The truth is, I embraced the depression and loneliness because it was easier to wallow in that pit. It was easier to hurt than to move on. There was even a type of beauty to the loneliness and agony I surrounded myself with. Such strong emotions keep me tethered to the bottom, because it’s easier to be on the ground than to risk falling again.
But I did. I fell, and now he’s gone.
They say suffering makes you stronger, better, but sometimes it just fucking hurts. Sometimes the pain doesn’t teach you a lesson, it just destroys you, and in those flames, I wasn’t remade. I was left.
I’m beginning to realize love can either be a scar or a temple, not both.
Deep down, I crave love and intimacy, but I’m terrified because it means I’m vulnerable, so I pretended I didn’t want it and filled my life with everything else to drown out that voice. I pretended so hard, I started to believe it—until him.
The truth is, I’m scared to show anyone the real me, because what if my deepest fear is true and I’m unlovable?
Clearly, I am.
Alone not lonely. Alone not lonely.
I repeat it as I stare into the darkness, hoping if I say it enough, I’ll believe it.
Alone not lonely.
Alone not lonely.
Alone . . . I’m lonely.
I’m fine.
I’m always fine.
I survived before Skylar Warren, and I can survive after him.
I’m fine. I’m totally fine.
I say it to everyone who asks, even though I see the disbelief in their eyes. I say it so much, it becomes stuck on repeat.
I am fine.
I’m always fine.
As I stare out at the city two days later, I break down.
I’m not fucking fine.
I’m not fucking okay.
He’s all I want. He’s all I need.
I want him here with me.
I ruined it.
I’m not fine.