Page 7 of Unbreak My Heart
Why is my head full of Cameron?
I shouldn’t be allowed to think about him, or us. I should only be allowed to think and relive whatever I did to him, to us.
I should only be allowed to suffer the loss.
I push those thoughts away, because I can’t deal with them right now. It’s an ache that never goes away. Like the one you get when a knife pierces your skin, leaving you to bleed until it slowly closes up, but with just a thought can be reopened again. And again . . . and again. I’d hoped it would stop at some point, either from lack of blood or because I’d been able to forget. Instead, it regenerates, day after day, inflicting the same pain repeatedly.
Not even the pit of pain my life has become can dull the sorrow of walking away from him.
Sometimes, in my dreams, I imagine our reunion. I fantasise about him opening his arms to welcome me, embracing me as if he doesn’t want to let go of me ever again, and telling me he never stopped loving me even if I had taken his heart and stomped on it.
Then reality comes, demolishing my safe place, knocking the door off its hinges, and the loss is bigger than it was the previous time. Every single bloody time.
That’s what I deserve. I only hope I didn’t subject him to the same destiny. He was always more clever than me, so I hope he’s moved on. I hope he has the life we talked so much about . . . with someone else. Someone better than me. Someone that stays with him forever. Even if a tiny part of me would love to have him waiting for me. Would love for Cammy to accept me back into his life. To see beyond what I did, and the scars I’m wearing because of the choices I made.
I kill the tiny, infinitesimal piece of hope sparkling in the recesses of my heart once again, because I shouldn’t be hoping for him to be alone still and missing me just as much as I’m missing him.
Even now, even after I went through all the shit my life has become, I’m still the same arrogant, egoistic piece of shit I was when I left.
Coming back to London was the last hope I had to get back on my feet. I had this big idea of finding a job, of putting my life back together, and then looking for Cam. To beg him to take me back, to promise to never let go of him again, and to spend the rest of my life making sure he knows I love him more than anything else.
Instead, I couldn’t find a job, and I couldn’t shake the life I’d led while in Liverpool. After a couple of weeks, I was back to selling the only good thing I still had—myself.
It was hard the first time. So hard that I’d thrown up for days. Sure, I hadn’t agreed to it, and they’d taken something that wasn’t theirs, but still I felt dirty. Used. Then it becomes something you do to survive. You close your heart, your feelings, and yourself, so that whoever’s touching your body can’t touch your essence. But after a while, you realise that the essence you were trying to protect is no longer there.
Still, I had hoped, while making my way back to London. My way back to Cameron. But London has been unforgiving, as if the city was trying to tell me I wasn’t welcome. That my idea of a reunion wasn’t what the man upstairs wanted for Cammy.
Then a chance to make some money, more than I’d seen in a long time, presented itself. I should have known better. And in some ways, deep inside my gut, I knew. But . . . I’d let that guy talk me into it and I went with him. I didn’t even realise that he wasn’t alone. I didn’t realise there were many others until it was too late. But by then they’d had me under their control, and I wish I could forget. I wish I could clean what they’d done to me off my body and out of my mind. They raped me, abused me, and in between, they took pleasure in beating me up. Until I was unconscious. Then I was saved by a good Samaritan.
If I was at my best, I might have fought them more than I did. If I was at my best, I could have inflicted some damage. Instead, my weak body only allowed me to cower away and let them get away with it without repercussions. I couldn’t fight at first, and after . . . I was no longer willing to get away. Everything was lost. Losing what was left of my hope had me wishing to die.
Cammy would have kicked my ass if he knew. He’s always been a fighter. Maybe not with his fists, but with his calm demeanour, his strong-as-steel will, and the confidence to be who he’s supposed to be—always. Not compromising, but following his true self, despite everyone else.
A knock at the door pulls me back to reality, making me jump, then groan in pain. I’ll have to assess the damage there later when my brain is working properly. When it’s not full of regrets or wishful thoughts that will get me nowhere.
I open my mouth to call them in, but nothing comes out. I don’t have the time to clear my throat and answer before the door opens anyway.
I expect the usual chatter coming from my nurse to start, and get myself ready to answer with the usual three words—“I’m well, thanks.“ However, an unexpected voice fills the room, making my heart thump against my chest, and I wish I could see more than I do from this far away.
“Good morning.”
“Who are you?” The words are out before I can stop myself and I hear him pause, but then a confidence I’ve only known in one other person seems to spread out from the guy, and he gives me an answer similar to something Cammy would have dished out.
“I’m the guy who saved your ass.”
He nearly pulls a loud laugh out of me. But my lips turning up have me wincing and cutting the laugh off before it can explode.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have—“
“Don’t you dare.” He interrupts me and takes a few steps inside the room, as if ready to smack me for saying such horrible things.
His disapproval is thick in the room, and inexplicably, I’m ashamed of having shared not only that, but that I’m even thinking about it.
“I’m sorry you feel this way.” His voice is so sad I want to cry.
Why am I this terrible all the time?
I stay stubbornly silent, partly because of my throat still hurting from the dicks those men shoved in my mouth, but mostly because, after being scolded I’m not sure what to say. And I’m not ready to say, “I’m sorry.”