R.B. Winters
R.B. Winters
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I stood in the middle of the street, rain beating down on me. This would go down as the most dramatic moment of my life. Except for the fact that the rain was only in my head and I was running down the middle of the street to get home as fast as I possibly could. I fumbled with my keys, which refused to enter the lock of my door.
“You look cracked out,” said my roomie, as she pulled the door open for me.
I don’t know if it was all of the vodka and rum, or that I had just had a nervous break down, that had my pupils so large the color was gone from my eyes. I threw myself on the couch, demanding an audience.
I had completely lost my shit. The Devil and I had gone out to his friend’s where I got myself good and drunk. We returned to his place late, late, late, and got down to some very personal business. Afterwards he fell asleep and I began to sweat. As the room began to spin, my mind began to spiral. Thoughts were racing as my stomach was churning. I pushed the covers off of me, sitting up enough to still the spinning that was quiet literally consuming my head. My heart was beating as if I had run a marathon and breathing felt impossible, I had to get dressed. In the darkness I managed to get my cloths on, exiting just as The Devil woke. I ran.
Why did I do it? As I lay there it became very apparent that I loved a man that was never really going to love me back. The thought was terrifying to the point of an anxiety attack. It wasn’t the alcohol making me sick, but the love I was feeling. I’ve stayed away from love as best I could since the day I broke my own heart. My roomie listened as I catapulted these toxic thoughts from my mind, before leaving me to catch the train.
I made up my mind as she left that I was going to stay away from The Devil, it just wasn’t worth the potential pain. It was 7:00a.m. and I still hadn’t gotten any sleep. As I tried to close my eyes I remembered the thing I had forgotten. On The Devil’s nightstand I had left my cross. The necklace I wear everyday, not for religion, but because it’s a part of who I am. It was obvious that I couldn’t avoid seeing him again. The only thing I could do was lie. I sent a text, knowing The Devil was asleep, saying I had gotten sick and went home. He believed me.
The only thing to do now: Return to the scene of the breakdown and get the cross out with my heart in tact.