Aftermath

POV Erin

Now in a muddle, I walk away from Ashley, desperate to leave the restaurant. Gone are the days when we could have a normal conversation. Too much has happened between us. And this is only one of several reasons why we should avoid each other; he expects things to go a certain way, and I have no interest in giving him what he wants.

Not that my attitude is helping, but it's my way of self-protecting after everything I've been through. Which puts him at a miserable disadvantage if he wants to make amends.

Once I'm out on the sidewalk, raindrops hit my face.

I'd love to forget Ashley and put him behind me, only I know that's not a possibility; how do I forget him when he affected every part of my life? He's someone I loved and wanted a future with.

Nonetheless, I can't forget that even if my mental health wasn't in jeopardy back then, we weren't good together.

He doesn't know how hard things have been for me, or how difficult it's been to move forward.

I cared nothing of my degree or old life.

My only interest back then was to get into a healthy head space. Which meant excluding Ashley. And as painful as it that was, I had to put my mental health first.

It didn't stop me from thinking about us being together, though. And I'd feel pathetic afterwards, as if I'd betrayed myself by thinking about him. It's hard to give up the person you love and want more than anything else. And the idea that I could move on and resume my old life seemed implausible.

Learning how to depend on myself after making a mess of my life was one of the hardest things I ever did. I was scared to be alone and make more mistakes. But determination got me moving again, and soon enough, I was trying to correct what I had failed to do the first-time round.

But this time I'm doing it. And the difference is, this time I know I can.

No matter how hard Ashley pushes and pries, I have no interest in reliving the worst experience of my life. No good can come from the truth.

As I approach the taxi rank, I decide it would be quicker to leg it home than wait for a taxi after taking in the lengthy line of people already waiting. So, I drape my scarf over my head and continue.

Apart from the passing traffic, the street is lonely this time of night. I pick up my pace and power walk along the footpath. The more distance between him and me, the more I reason with myself that I should have told him what happened to me wasn't all his fault — if only to stop him from reappearing at my door again.

On that thought, I spin around and leap into a run, my boots clicking on the cement.

Five minutes is all I need to tell him and then leave.

The smell of rain is strong in the air as I run along the path towards the restaurant.

My legs have never moved so fast in heels. And as scared as I am of falling, I am even more scared of him leaving before I get there.

With my heart knocking against my chest in a frenzy of erratic beats, I cross a small side road, passing three gawking youths on skateboards.

By the time the restaurant comes into sight, my urgency eases. And with a breathless sigh, I press a hand between my rib and hip, to ease the stich as my heart's thumps about in my chest-- harder than the techno mix Zach had played for me earlier today.

As I take the last steps to the restaurant, my phone pings with a new message. Another unknown number.

I blow out a shaky breath as I read the text: