120. Ryan and Dakota
With a heavy chest, I press the button, causing the gate to slide open automatically.
Nails dig into my palms as my fists stay clenched to my sides, while I force myself to walk towards the awaiting car, and not wait for his presence.
I don’t want to see him, and I don’t ever want to remember those seven nights.
I get into the vehicle without looking back. I badly want to erase every damn memory connected to him.
I want to be free of him. Physically and mentally.
As the car starts rolling on its four wheels, tears roll down my cheeks uncontrollably. It feels like I am stabbing my own heart in exchange for my liberty.
And the freedom, it tastes bitter with lingering salty tears.
Suddenly, my phone vibrates, and I see it’s Dakota’s number.
My heart clenches painfully and slowly, tears blur my vision as I watch his name blinking on the screen for a long minute, until it fades to black.
With a deep blade into my heart, I block his number, not wanting to see his name ever pop up on my screen again.
I liked him so much and now, I *fucking* hate him so much.
I even *fucking* hate this city, all because of him.
I was so stupid to think he will change, and fall for me, just like I fell for him.
*But love is fake.*
Those Disney movies, romantic novels, and all those love stories are spitting lies.
There is no such thing as love in this world. There is no prince charming, only selfish people waiting to use others for sex and pleasure.
*Just like he used me.*
*Again and again..*
My heart is racing painfully fast and tears won’t stop pooling down as fresh memories of abuse flood my mind.
I shut my eyes, let it all out.
The pain in unbearable. I press a hand on my mouth and sob uncontrollably.
*Pathetic. Whore. Filthy girl..*
My mind whispers those words, pushing me to the edge of darkness again. A place I barely escaped last time, once threatening to consume me once again.
Feeling breathless, I wipe my tears, and call that one person I badly need to talk to. The ring goes on, and the knot in my stomach tightens.
*It’s been three years.. Since I talked to-*
“Hello!” A soft voice comes through my phone, and the tightness begins to ease.
“Ana.. I-I miss-ed you.” I whimper, holding on to my phone like the last thread to light.
“Emara? Are you okay?” Concern colours her tone, and I shake my head, as if she can see me.
“You were right, Ana.. I am such an easy girl.” I sob breathlessly. “I am so desperate for love, that I would fall for the first guy who gives me a little attention.”
“Emara, I didn’t mean it that way..” Ana whispers dejectedly, but I interrupt.
“No. You were right. I have no self-respect for myself, no sense of judgement, and I am so dumb to look for love even in the places that only blink of lust.”
I squeeze my eyes tightly, as faces of Ryan and Dakota flashes in my mind while they used my innocent body, discarding my feelings.
“I am so *fucking* stupid to fall blindly just because they wanted me, despite knowing what exactly they wanted from me.”
“Emara.. You are not stupid, idiot.” Ana whispers through the phone.
“You are just a good person, and you believe everyone else out there is good too. But sadly, that’s not how the world works.”
I cry harder, listening to her soft consoling voice.
She was the only one who truly understood me, who was genuinely nice to me, and I messed up our friendship.
“I am sorry, Ana.. for everything, and I miss you so much. So *fucking* much.” I choke out on my tears as I beg her for forgiveness.
It hurts to even speak, but somewhere deep down, it feels liberating to finally say those words out loud and accept my fault.
“It’s okay.. We all make mistakes, but I am glad you called.” I hear her smiling through the phone, and the tightness in my chest lightens.
“I am glad you picked up.” I reply, sniffing and wiping away my tears.
“I didn’t expect you to call this early and be in tears. What happened?” Ana questions me skeptically.
Being a psychology student, she has always been observant, quick to pick up weird patterns in my behaviour.
“Ana.. I need your help.” I gulp, feeling the lump in my throat as I say, “I-I want to ask you for a pill.”
“What kind of pill?” Her tone shifts to seriousness.
I close my eyes, feeling ashamed to even spell it. But I badly need it as I don’t want to get pregnant.
“Can I come to meet you?” I ask her in return.
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