She speaks before I can even take a breath; I have wanted to hear her say that for so long.

“I don’t want you to say anything…I just had to say that. I had to tell you,” her eyes so truthful, so honest.

I want to say it, to tell her that I love her with all my being that I have waited for her. I can’t seem to put it into words, to make her believe just how much I love her. That I can’t breath when she looks at me like she is now, that I can’t think when she’s around, especially now when she no shirt on. Dear god I love her belly button, I love her breast, breathe just breath.

“I know that this fucks a lot of things up…I know that you’re with some one else, but it hurts too much to keep it in.” her voice the saddest song I have ever heard, it breaks my heart.

God why can’t I say anything? Just tell her…tell her and it’ll be over. We can be together…we can live in that world where everything is right, where everything makes sense. God maybe I could speak if she put some clothes on, though I really hope she doesn’t.

“I’m going to get dressed.”

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I know that she has something to say, I love that she can’t stop staring. Though she is making me very aware that I am naked, well half naked anyway. I can kiss that little smirk; I turn to grab the sweater from the bed, pulling it over me breaking her trance. I walk to the bathroom, holding the pyjama bottoms, closing the door. I can hear her foot steps shuffling around the room, I yell through it saying that I have clothes for her in my dresser, and I picture her skin. Fuck this door, those tears in her eyes when I came out of the pool, the feeling of her hand on my face. My body numb, and yet I feel the tearing of my skin, the sting of the air hitting the cut. I turn away from the door fighting the urge to open it, to accidently walk in on her getting dressed.

Fuck why did I have to break the fucking mirror? At least it’s not bleeding that bad, why did I have to say that? Why the fuck did she have to come here? Just get dressed, get dressed and try to forget. I see the small bottle, the dark calling me, the thought of no pain of any feelings, all in a little pill. The clatter of them in the bottle, the bottle that fits so well in my hand. There faces, so sad, haunting me; there voices telling me to put it down. That missing tooth in Abby’s smile, that look in mom’s eyes when she said good bye.