Chapter 5
Wren
And the tears always come.
Ihit the power button, but it’s already too late.
The screen may be black now, but I still see the images burning in my mind.
Grey’s dominance radiating off him, demanding Anastasia to obey.
There was so much hype around the Fifty Shades books that I figured I’d give the movies a try, hoping to distract my mind from the past. But here I am, sinking deeper into my misery and despair. Six years and it just doesn’t let up.
It happened again today—another reminder of my lost dream.
Fran needed to leave work early, and I was forced to interact with the customers.
And dear old Mrs. Winkler decided to meddle her nose into my love life again.
Asking me why I didn’t have a man in my life.
Asking if I’d ever been in love. Then she wanted to know if I would like to be set up with her grandson.
A divorcé ten years my senior, who lives in her basement and needs a “good girl to keep him occupied so he doesn’t fry his brain on them video games he likes to play so much. ”
The lies rolled off my tongue as I answered her, but the truth burrowed itself in my gut and I was drowning in the pain of my pathetic love life.
I’d baked enough last night that I didn’t need to stay late tonight, so I rushed home and planned a movie marathon for myself.
Three movies to keep my mind occupied until sleep took over. But it’s not working.
I pick up my phone and start scrolling through my Insta feed, tagging recipes I’d like to try out, watching silly animal videos, the latest dance trends.
When Chef Zen’s grand opening video comes through, I quickly close out the app.
It’s not that I’m not excited for him, I am.
But it hurts too much to be reminded of what I lost. I’d always dreamed of working as his sous chef, learning from the best of the best, but that dream died the day my heart was broken.
My granny told me I should leave this place and my pain behind and go start fresh, but there wasn’t a shred of strength in me.
I was barely breathing. Then, when she got sick, I knew I couldn’t leave.
There was no one here to take care of her, and my mom sure wasn’t going to step up to the plate.
So…I stayed. And after Granny passed, I used my inheritance to buy the diner that was so dear to her heart.
It may not be the grand restaurant I dreamed of opening in New York City, but it allows me to do something I love.
And seeing the joy my food brings to these kind people helps keep me trucking along.
Great, and now I’m even more of an emotional mess.
Awesome. I think it’s time to take some sleeping pills and put an end to the day.
I didn’t want to take them again tonight, but there’s no point in denying the inevitable.
It’s either that or cleaning while listening to some stand-up comedy podcast, and right now, I don’t want to be reminded of the fact that I’ve lost my laugh, too.
I listen in hopes that something will spark even a smile, but mainly, it just ends up being a good distraction to my thoughts and that’s about it.
I swallow the pills back and turn off the lights, going back to my room.
I slide the window open to let some cool air in, in hopes it will ease the tightness in my lungs.
A twig snaps not too far off in the distance but I can’t find the culprit in the woods.
It’s too dark. We get all kinds of animals out here, so it could be anything.
My guess is it’s a racoon because those buggers love snooping around my trailer at night for trash.
I take a deep breath, looking up at the moon. And like I do every night, I stab the knife into my chest. Call it habit or self-inflicted torture, but I can’t stop myself.
“I love you, Kayden. God, why can’t I stop loving you?
” Life would be so much better if I could just turn off the feelings.
But no matter what I do, they don’t fade.
They don’t ease up their grip on my heart.
Nothing…nothing stops the thoughts of him that constantly churn inside my head.
His smile. The way he looked at me when I spoke. The way he made love to me.
But it’s as if I imagined it all. Every moment, every word, every feeling was all a lie.
To him, I was just some conquest. A challenge.
A rich little virgin he got to dirty up.
He didn’t love me. Not the way I loved him.
And God, does that truth crush me. Reading his letter broke me.
What I felt was worse than the grief I felt after losing my grandmother, and I loved her so dearly.
After five years, you’d think it’d fade.
Nearly two thousand days have past, yet it feels like it was yesterday.
I still can’t get over him. I still can’t reconcile the truth with my memories. I still can’t forget.
Another bristling in the trees pulls me through the never-ending cycle of thoughts that spins through my mind, wondering how I could’ve been so wrong about him.
Wondering how I’m supposed to go through life like this.
Barely functioning. Barely breathing. They say time will heal, but as with everything in life, there’s an exception to the rule. And I’m the exception.
I lay down on my bed and close my eyes, feeling the tears slip out the corners and run down the side of my face. Like sheep, I start counting them until the sleeping pills kick in and the darkness finally makes the painful day come to an end.