Chapter 14 #4
I couch surf with Jared for a few days, but he already shares his apartment, and everything I own is back at home. Then Jared comes home with a black eye and says I gotta go, that there are too many people in the house. He refuses to say what happened, says it’s stupid, but I know what happened.
Arthur happened.
I feel like a pussy. I’m putting my friends in danger now. Arthur wasn’t doing anything to me, and I still ran. On top of that, I ran even though I did nothing wrong.
A few days later, I go back to get my things. From there, I’m not sure where I’m going to go. I’ll live out of my car if I have to.
I live out of my car for a few weeks. I stop paying the bills, and I just leave.
During that time, Arthur sends apology after apology, and when I block his number, he starts emailing me.
He sends long messages about what he’s talking about in therapy, tells me he isn’t giving up on us, and that he’s finally ready to fight for us.
He says he’s sober now and says it was the alcohol that made him fuck up so bad.
He says he’ll pay all the bills and even sends me money that I use for a hotel.
I take the liberty of using Arthur’s to order myself some things to the hotel as well.
In that hotel, my heart breaks. Over and over again. And then I get mad. Why did he have to do those things? We were lovebugs. We were meant to be together. Till death do us part.
I lie to him about staying with Jared even though he already knows.
Then I get mad at myself. Arthur is willing to try. He’s getting sober for me. He’s going to therapy. Am I really just going to give up on us? On love?
I start drinking again. I know I shouldn’t, but the room is just so goddamn empty.
And then, in a rash, angry decision, I go back to our apartment.
I pound on the door and demand that Arthur open it.
When he does, I shove him back, yelling at him, taunting him.
“If you’re gonna fucking kill me, just do it! Just do it, pussy! You won’t!”
Arthur just looks at me with dark, sad eyes.
“I’m done, and I’m getting my shit,” I spit and stalk to the bedroom. When he doesn’t follow me, I get the oddest urge to cry. I cry and throw myself on the bed, scream at him, and ask him why. Why, why, why? Why can’t he love me? It’s not that fucking hard!
For a moment, I wallow. The anger hits like a brick wall, and I start throwing things into a bag.
It doesn’t take long to pack my things, plus a few extra things I take from Arthur, including a Cleveland Guardians hoodie that I’ve always liked.
Because fuck him. If he’s going to ruin what we have, then he at least owes me a hoodie.
When I’m done, Arthur is on the couch on his phone, dry-eyed. And that’s when I notice something on his neck–a dark circle.
Is that a…hickey? A fucking hickey?
That makes the rage flare hotter. I throw my head in the air and stalk the patio, where I check on the pigeon nest.
Only, it’s not there.
My stomach drops.
“Where are the pigeons?” I ask. For a beat, I forget everything else and step back inside. “Where are the birds?”
“Huh?” Arthur says.
“The pigeons, the fucking pigeons!” I wave at the patio, my heart racing.
“Oh. They were shitting on the cement.”
Arthur leaves it at that.
“Okay? Where are they?” My voice is raised.
Finally, Arthur makes eye contact with me, and when he does, his eyes are fully black in a way that makes the hair on my arms rise. There’s a taunting look in his eyes, and his lips turn up in a smirk.
And in that second, I realize he got rid of them or worse, hurt them.
Cold washes over the previous heat, turning my gut to stone.
I fucked up. I gave away a weakness. I showed a vulnerability.
I never should have done that, and the pigeons suffered for it.
Arthur destroyed their nest because he could.
Because he knew it would hurt me. They suffered because of cruel humans. Just like Nippy did.
For a moment, I see myself as an animal in a cage with Arthur, him giving me a mocking laugh as he strangles me.
Then that boiling rage in my chest turns to deadly calm. Slowly, I say, “Fuck. You.”
Arthur just smirks.
And in this moment, I want to hit him. I want to punch him and never stop punching until that look is gone from his face.
But at the last second, I stop.
That’s what he wants me to do. That’s what he would do.
And so, with monumental effort, I leave.
Because I’m not fucking him. I’m better than him.
A few weeks later, Arthur figures out I ordered from his account and took a few of his things. He sends threatening texts.
I block him.
Out of all of this, I’ve learned one thing, a thing I should have learned a long time ago from my parents, and that’s that attention is dangerous. Interest is dangerous. It’s a cage with a lock and key. The safest you can be is when no one is looking at you.
And so, I do my best to free myself in the only way I know how. I become invisible. I’ll save myself, because no one is going to do it for me.