Another Confession

She always knew it would come to this.

As often as she had tried to ignore it, the fact remained within her mind, bursting at the seams of her subconscious like a relentless river against a rickety old dam. And now, here it was being realised before her eyes. She hated confrontation, but this was much worse; a goodbye long overdue.

How did she get here, she asks herself almost incredulously. But no, she stops herself from going down that road; that road leads to self-loathing, and God knows she has enough reasons to hate herself without having to add this to the list.

Her mind finally returns to the present. She sits at the edge of the bed, her sacred bedroom in total disarray. Drawers hang open, their contents upset or missing. With a heavy heart she takes it all in, not missing a single corner of the room. Well, that's not entirely true; she makes a distinct effort to ignore that space taken up by the person standing right in front of her, his hands on his head, his face an expression of total incomprehension.

She looks him in the eyes, and tries not to notice the pain behind them, the confusion that engulfs him. His things were neatly packed in a cardboard box at his feet, when minutes ago they were in her drawers, together with hers. His hands are clenched, when a few hours ago they would have been surrounding hers. Her heart is cold and empty, when a few days ago it would have been his.

"Why?", he says, softly.

She looks back down at the floor and sighs, gathering her thoughts, before speaking.

"I don't know. I don't know how to explain it in a way you would understand. I'm not entirely sure I understand it either. All I know is.."

She pauses. This will be hard.

"'You think we're happy, and even I did for a while. We were comfortable with each other, you moved in without any trouble, we never fought about a thing. But, you never fight about anything! You never question me, you never stood up to me, you let me steam roll right through your life and you assume that's what I want but it's not!"

Her eyes find his now; she wants him to understand this, more than anything.

"For God's sake, were you born to resist, or be abused?"

Silence.

"You probably think I'm just bored, just looking for something new to excite me, some new toy to play with; but - I've got another confession to make," she says, as her voice drops to almost a whisper.

She turns to face the window, taking in the last remaining light of day as it reflects off the city's skyline, before saying with finality:

"I'm getting tired of starting again somewhere new..."

---

This was part of the Indie Ink Challenge that many bloggers seem to be taking part in recently. It's pretty simple; you enter your name in a database weekly and you get to challenge and be challenged by other writers to write a post on a specific topic within the next 5 days. Mine was given by Sunshine , and I was supposed to use a line from my favourite song to tell a story. It's not my usual type of post, so I'm not sure how it turned out. The song is "Best of You" by the Foo Fighters. Hope you liked it! Also, in turn I challenged Catherine, and you can see her response here.