Page 15

Where It All Began

“Everything is so messed up. I wish I could talk to the man who set my fate in stone. Sometimes, no matter how far you run or who you kill, you can’t help but love even the worst among the worst. Today, I miss him. Today, I wish I could call him. Today, I have no hate for him. Today, I need my dad. I’m pathetic. Fuck you, Dad.”

—Ivy

Tayden: Good morning, little flame. Nothing like driving to work in my second love, only to be reminded of my first when I touched my face sitting at my desk this morning after driving my present to work today.

Now it’s all I can think about, and I find myself flashing back to the image of you sliding down that leather every time I place my hand anywhere close to my nose taking in your scent. I blame you for my cock being randomly hard at work today but don’t worry, I’ll punish you for it later. I love you……. All of you.

Tayden: I never heard back from you last night. Is everything okay? Meeting go well?

Tayden: Babe, it’s 10:00 A.M. Talk to me. I don’t know if you’re simply just busy or having a meltdown. For fuck’s sake, my mind is going in a million directions; just message me back. I’m worried about you. Did I upset you?

I’m awoken by the dinging of a phone going off relentlessly.

Rolling over, I reach for it, the sun burning the cracks in my eyes as I stare up at the screen.

I have way too many missed calls and certainly too many missed messages.

Scrolling through, only one catches my eye.

I suddenly feel sick as the memories of last night roll through my brain.

It’s as if I’m seven, sitting in his room again, the toy pressed to my eyes as I flip the trigger, forcing the paper wheel to spin.

The flashing images of Peter Pan, changing flick by flick with each click, my frustration growing bigger as the images move faster and faster at the will of my own hand.

Except the images today are not that of the Lost Boys—No.

They are painful images of me killing Red.

Tayden: What’s going on?

Tayden: I’m not sure what’s going on, but I never heard back after the car delivery last night. Is everything ok? I’m starting to fucking worry.

Tayden: God dammit, Ivy. Somebody better fucking reply to me now. I’m on my way!

My brain moving slowly, my ability to register my reality is fogged .

Just as his last text rolls in, I snap out of my insanity.

Fuck.

My breaths grow frantic as I jump up, pacing around, thinking of what to do.

Think Ivy, fucking think.

What would Red do? The last thing I need is Tayden coming anywhere near here.

I can’t, I can’t fucking… Ignoring the messages he sent to Red, I pull my phone to me, as I begin to type.

Ivy: Everything is fine. Don’t come. Seriously, you’re so dramatic, I swear. I’ve got one better. Meet me?

I’m so full of shit, everything isn’t fine.

It’s all so far from fine.

My head is pounding, and my memory is so foggy.I can only see pieces of what happened last night.

They are like snippets with no beginning or end.

It’s probably best I don’t, but I need to remember, I want to remember.

Searching around, I see the mess of my reckoning.

Empty champagne bottles are thrown everywhere, broken furniture, shattered glass.

Switching from view to view, examining the loft; words laced in cursive on a nearby mirror catch my eye.

Walking towards it, I squint in an effort to read the words swirled across the glass in red lipstick.

Checkmate Bitch

Suddenly, my feet fall out from under me, and I’m face down on the floor.

The hit to my head knocks sense into me, and I realize I slept at Red’s, but she isn’t here. Suddenly, it all comes crashing back, and I need to get the fuck out of here.

Do not look back. Get up and leave now. Go home, Ivy. Get your head straight. Fuck.

Fear haunts me, andI can only hope my passive-aggressive text throws him off from reality. I am not okay.

Tayden: You sure you don’t need me to come? Something seems off Ives.

Ivy: Seriously, T, all good. Meet me?

Tayden: What are you thinking?

I haven’t thought that far ahead. Now that he’s biting and his guard is coming down, I need to give him an address—and quickly. It hits me—the end started last night. Let’s end it for good today. It’s time.

Ivy: I’ll send the address.

Tayden: What time? Just give me a time, and I’ll be there.

Ivy: Three hours, say 1?

336 Old Acadia Road

Tayden: Yeah, with that address, I’m not fucking waiting three hours. I’ll be there in one. Don’t keep me waiting.

I need to go into damage control and figure out my next step.

What does all this mean for me? Is it for real? I’d love nothing more than to run into his or Liam’s arms right now and just go back to how things were before the Gala, sexually and emotionally uncomplicated, zero pressure, zero desire for more, acceptance of our reality all around.

We were all intertwined in harmony, living a fantasy in reality so blissfully.

I guess it’s possible we never were, and it was all an illusion, something I created, a figment of my imagination, and reality is here, knocking at my fucking front door.

Fuck, for all I know, we were doomed to end here from the beginning.

What started as four has now become three, and I’m once again to blame.

Ivy: Fine, see you in an hour.

Tayden: I love you, Ivy Sage Rutledge…

I begin replying, but my finger finds the delete button instead.

Tears begin to fall from my eyes at his words.

There’s nothing more powerful than those six words.

They are my favorite six words of his, and I love it when he writes them to me.

I can’t remember when it started or pinpoint the first time he ever said them, but I feel I’ve been hearing them for an eternity, in this life and many before.

Unsure of our future, if it is the last text he ever sends me, I don’t want to cloud it with my jumbled thoughts right now.

Loving him is effortless.

It’s learning to unlove him that’s going to be hard, but nothing has ever been easy in my life.

It sure isn’t starting today, not after last night’s mess.

“The truth….. The hardest thing about loving Ivy is watching her never love herself all these years.“

—Tayden

She’s lying to me.

I don’t need a tone to know that, just that address.

I don’t know much, but by Red’s fucking lack of response to my text this morning, and her passive-aggressive attempt at communication, it doesn’t take a genius.

I can’t shake the feeling Ivy will lead me to the answers about Red and everything soon.

I told her an hour, but I left the moment that address hit my phone.

I want to see her before she sees me.

I want to get a better idea of what I’m walking into.

Turning the corner, I pull into a place I never thought I’d revisit again after the day I left for the last time.

I assumed it would be broken down, but to my surprise, it’s perfectly maintained.

The letters on the side are faded, the metal is worn from the weather, but the grass is cut, and I can tell someone has been taking care of it all these years.

Pulling in, I park where she won’t see me, my chest heavy as I remove my seatbelt.

Exhaling a deep breath, I wait.

Ivy: I’m on my way. What’s your ETA?

Tayden: I’m running a little behind, got stuck in a meeting, leaving in five.

Ivy: No rush; see you soon

Tayden: Hey, Ives…

Ivy: Yeah?

Tayden: Why there?

I watch as the bubbles appear, telling me she’s writing before they stop.

A few moments later, they start again, then proceed to disappear.

She isn’t responding.

Throwing my phone to the passenger side, my hands rub my face in anger, and for a moment, I’m no longer frustrated.

I’m back between Red’s legs on the hood of the car.

Goddamn, this woman is infuriating, sexy, but fucking infuriating.

I’m not a nervous man, but this building has me questioning everything.

With her, everything means something, and this, this fucking place, I can only imagine what she must tell me.

It could go right or left, but either version is haunting.

The weight of everything lately hits me in full force.

If it’s happening here, it’s something massive.

Coming from Ivy, massive makes me nervous as fuck.

She’s the type of woman who can need you one minute and absolutely despise you the next.

It’s her defense mechanism, rarely factual feelings.

She only despises the fact she needs me.

I understand it.

For people like us, needing someone isn’t so easily admitted.

She hates it more than me, and fuck, I love when she fights it.

That could very well make me a narcissist.

We all carry that label in life, some version of it.

Fuck it.

I’ll wear that title if it means having her.

I have taken full advantage of her need for me all these years.

Her need for my love, my touch, and I won’t fucking apologize for it, even though I know I owe her one at times.

We both use each other.

She feeds off it just as much as I do.

Nobody is a saint here.

Her knowing my need for her drives her wild.

We are crazy for each other, and it will never end.

We are constant and everlasting, at least we always have been.

Fuck where is she? This is fucking torture sitting here.

Time standing still, a lump permanently lodges in my throat as I watch her vehicle pull in from a safe distance. My early attendance goes unnoticed as she exits her vehicle, her blonde hair pulled into a messy bun, her body embraced in black sweats with a matching hoodie. She looks defeated, and the lump grows larger, my mouth turning dry as reality hits me.

There is no version of this that is ending well.

Pulling her keys up to the deadbolt, she slides the key in, her movements frantic as she jiggles it, finally unlocking the entrance to the back door. In a moment’s time, she disappears inside, and my breath escapes me as I suck in a deeper one bigger than the one before.

What are we doing here, Ives? What’s happened in your pretty little head?

My phone dings….

Ivy: I’m here.

Reading her words feels like a knife has already been planted deep in my chest.

I can’t help but feel that the moment I walk in there, all that is to come is her turning it, cutting me deeper and deeper.

She’s always been good at that.

Watching her completely berate another human with her words is one of her most attractive traits; Being on the receiving end fucking kills me every time.

I never tell her how much her rage affects me.

I guess I never wanted to be one to disvalue her feelings like so many before.

Today, I feel there will be a lot of truths waiting for me on the inside of that door.

Fuck, what happened now?

Putting my car in drive, I begin pulling onto Old Acadia Road, making my late arrival real.

For all I know, she has a security system and is watching, so I can’t come walking over from where I am.

Slowly, I creep into the parking lot, pulling in right beside her.

Throwing it in park, I shoot her a reply.

Tayden: Just pulled in.

Loosening my tie, I gather myself.

I’m a fucking shaking mess.

She will notice, and that’s the last thing I want.

Giving her or Red power is always a man’s second mistake.

Letting them know they have it is their first.

If she knows my head is all over the place, there is no way I will come out of this alive.

Get your fucking shit together.

Exiting my vehicle, stalking towards the big metal door, I swing it open with force.

As I break the barrier into our past, the musk in the air hits hard, taking me back to the nineties when I was hers, she was mine, and our world was much simpler.

Chills trail up my spine.

Glancing to my left, I head past the original office that became a medical room years later.

The mere view takes me back to Gerald, our bus driver, who we’d randomly catch throwing back a capful of peroxide, swearing up and down it cleansed him.

The memory calms me momentarily, bringing a laugh to my throat as I pass the doorway heading into Studio A.

I stop at the white benches still lying perfectly as they were right at the edge of the horrid blue carpet with red tape laid in perfect rows across it.

Memories of years of my childhood are housed here.

There was a time when hundreds of kids lined those rows at attention.

My eyes follow them until I see her bare feet.

My heart skips a beat, my hand finding the wood of a bench to sturdy myself as I look at the girl I loved within these walls, now a woman.

She makes the background look breathtaking.

In a way, she looks the same—still broken and searching, just many years older.

I wanted so much more for you, for us. I am sorry.

Moments pass as we stand here, taking each other in, our eyes saying so much, our lips sealed.

It feels like an eternity standing here.

Breaking the silence, I’m hoping all my fears are those of my mind, and maybe in some way, we are here to rebuild a foundation rather than burn ourselves down.

“Mi Amor.”

“Tayden.”

Her voice cracks, slashing my heart.

“I guess time capsules are real, and some people do return to open them, huh?”

I tease, feeling her out.

“Yeah, they warn you about opening them, but this wasn’t opened, T. It was preserved.”

I arch a brow, confused. “Preserved?”

“Yeah, preserved. For it to be a time capsule, it would have had to be buried and walked away from, then reopened and revisited years later.”

Her voice darts across the room, the pure emptiness of this place carrying it loudly in all directions.

“So that’s not what we’re doing right now? Reopening and revisiting it?”

My glare darkens. Her body hasn’t moved an inch as she stands firmly before me. I reach the edge of the carpet, removing my shoes as I begin trekking towards her, waiting for her reply. My act of removing my shoes acknowledging the seriousness of this moment and respect for this tombstone.

“It’s what you are doing, but for me, I never left.”

I can see the tears begin to build in her beautiful brown eyes with each word she releases, almost a testament from her soul. And it’s breaking in front of me as I watch her face tremble in a fierce attempt to hold it all together.

“Tell me, Amor, tell me what you mean.”

My steps slow, steadily heading in her direction. Pause takes over her, her body completely frozen as her hand clears the stream from her eyes. Her lips part, but no words escape as I watch on. I want nothing more than to wrap her sweet body in my arms and tell her it’s going to be ok, but I can’t because I know her too well, and that’s the last thing she wants in this moment, even if she craves it deep within her lost heart. She has something to say and needs me to listen more than anything right now. Reaching her, I reach my hand out, craving to feel her. Pulling away from me, her voice turning from tender to that of a soldier.

“Don’t!”

she shouts, taking a step back. Her resistance cuts me deep.

You are not her comfort right here in this fucking moment.

“You don’t get to do that, T, you don’t get to fucking—God, why is it you always think touch is the answer to everything? Fuck!”

she shouts, her eyes enraged.

“Then tell me, Ivy, why am I here? Why are you here? How the fuck are we here?”

My arms circling the air, searching the empty tomb, pleading for answers, something, anything.

“We are here because I wanted to meet you here. We are here because I own this building and have for all these years. We are here because this , right here , this fucking place is where we began, and—”

her arms flip around with her words, and I know where her sentence is headed, and I won’t allow it—I can’t. A world without her, without Red, is not a world I wish to exist in.

“Don’t,”

I bite, moving in ignoring all warnings she has given me to stay away. My hands scurry to embrace her tear-filled cheeks.

“Look at me!”

I command, grasping her face. But just as she was as a little girl, her stubbornness wins, and her view does not hold me in it as she stares off at the wall.

“Look at me.”

My voice digging deeper and darker, not taking no for an answer. My words, her roadmap for her deep brown eyes to find mine.

“Look at me,”

I repeat louder, grabbing her attention.

“What, T?”

she shouts.

“Why? Why did you buy this place?”

“Why? Is it not obvious?”

she snaps.

“I have a version of an answer, but I want yours, Amor.”

“Because.”

“Amor, it is me. Look at me. It’s just me and you in this empty room. You’re safe. Tell me why, help me understand.”

“Because T, in a world where my entire life was fucking breaking day in and day out this, was the only constant; this was the only home I ever had. Regardless of what people thought of me or how other students, instructors, and parents treated me here, this was my safe place in the world. This is all I ever had that was good in this fucking world. This was where I learned to love and where love found me, in Studio B at those fucking wooden lockers with you! This fucking building that meant nothing to anyone when it no longer served them was the only place that resembled a childhood to me, and my memories here have never stopped serving me. When I went home to my torture every evening as a child, it started hurting a little less and less each day as time passed because I’d remember tomorrow I’d get a few hours here again. Safety would come again when I bowed in at that door.”

Her ability to control her tears has dissipated, as they pour from her eyes like raging waters heading downstream a mile a minute. Tears bead in my own, and my heart shatters at her words, but I fight like hell, trying to control my emotions for her.

“Amor, my love, I—”

My words fall flat, disappearing as quickly as they began.

I should have put two and two together when she sent this address.

I’m surprised she owns it, and not, all in the same breath.

Everything she does has always been so calculated.

I guess I never thought about what this place was to her when she told me that weekend in Maine about her father and her life—fuck, about my own father.

I’m saddened how deep and tormented all this has been for her.

How agonizing her entire life has been.

Years back, when she messaged me, and we reconnected, I guess I always thought her life had turned out so amazing.

That’s what social media does, though.

You search for someone from your past, and you think they live a blissful life, but you never truly know what type of battles they are facing or continue fighting from their past every day.

Ghosts don’t live on the internet except those who are no longer with us, kept alive by others who wish they would have said more, done more, had more time.

It was no secret to everyone in these walls that Ivy was different.

She never had many friends, but I loved her, and she loved those who never gave her the time of day.

I remember watching her day in and out, never giving up on trying to fit in.

I only ever saw her as perfect because, to me, she was—still is.

I never saw all the dark.

Maybe I just didn’t want to see it, and I’m naive as fuck for that.

I was a kid, but I’m a fucking adult now.

I should have pieced it all together by now through our years.

“I bought this place because of the history here, not just mine, but all the kids who grew up here. It wasn’t deserving of some business to move in and cover up all the lives that existed here. The childhoods chiseled out here. It seemed so wrong to allow someone to cover up all who grew up here and fucking became who they were within these walls. I bought this place because across that wall are our lockers, where we met every day. And back there is the outlet where Ronald put a fork in the electrical socket. Out past Sensei’s apartment is where he learned his love for archery and knife throwing and practiced day and night chasing all those world titles he earned, placing him in the Guinness Book of World Records. At those tables over there is where I passed all my classes and fought like hell to get my homework done, not to have good grades but to not have this place ripped from me for failing. This room where we stand is the room I completed every belt test reminding myself I wasn’t fucking worthless, nor was I only good for a fuck. This room where you and I stand reminded me I was able to accomplish the un-accomplishable. This room raised me, made me a fighter, and never told me I was a survivor. The same room where we ran around until way past our bedtime at in-school sleepover nights where for a few hours in my life, I fucking mattered and had friends. Even if they weren’t mine, I was theirs. I own this place because this place fucking matters. It made me, created the little good in me besides you, and is the only reason I didn’t blow my fucking brains out years ago. This place gave me you, which in turn gave me hope that would carry me to my twenty-ninth birthday, now mere months from the one I thought I’d never see thirty.”

Silence festers between us, and I have so much to say, but it’s not my turn. She needs to say it all here and now with me, in this place. I have to give her that, as hard as it is not to scream out all the thoughts swarming my head.

“You are here because when I was locked away all those times, losing my mind trying to hold onto a shred of dignity, a shred of hope, I knew that I had this place to return to if I just fucking survived and made it out. Even though every time I came back a little more broken, a little less me, I fucking made it back. This place stitched my wounds each moment I got to step back on this horrid blue carpet, even when I knew I’d be leaving again. This place was my home, my safety, my normalcy, and it housed my greatest love—you. It held and still holds all I hold dear to me, an unbreakable bond, the beauty in my wreckage.”

Wiping the snot from her nose, tears pour from my eyes.

“You are here, Tayden, because to rebuild, you must tear everything down to the foundation—welcome to my fucking foundation.”

Fuck, her words cut me like ice.

Is she saying I am her foundation? Or is this where she tells me I’m not a part of the blueprints of her future plans?. Breaking my silence, my tongue catches up with my curiosity.

“Am I a part of that picture?”

“No, T, I can’t rebuild with you.”

Her words breathless and brazen. Turning the knife in me deeper.

Jesus fucking Christ. Ivy, you can’t do this to me—to us.

“If that’s what you need, then I understand.”

My words venomous lies, but all I can grasp. I have none; her confession swallowing them up, just fucking overwhelming sadness.

This is like all the other times throughout our relationship. She just needs some time, and eventually, she will come back around; she always does; you’re ok, it’s ok.

“You don’t mean that, Amor.”

“Yes. Yes, I do. You should have never moved here.”

“I guess there’s nothing I can do then… Red?”

“Dead. I fucking killed her last night; that’s why she never texted you back.”

Pacing back and forth at her confession, my own spiral begins.

Jesus fucking Christ. What the fuck has she done? She is blowing everything up in flames. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She’s hurting so bad, and I can’t fucking stop the self-destructing path she’s on. Fucking murder?

Finding my grounding, I look onto her in silence, calculating her next move before I play mine. She’s unhinged, and the last thing I want is to be on the opposing side of it.

Don’t give in Ives, don’t let the darkness swallow you up, don’t lose it all, all you’ve worked for. I know you’re in there; fight, if not for me than for her. Fuck.

“I have no words, Amor. I—um, I’m sorry we are here under these circumstances. I’m sorry I ruined it all that night. I guess I just thought… Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m sorry. I love you with all I have. I always will . ”

“Yeah.”

“If not again in this lifetime, then in another place in time, I will find you and we will be together no matter how many lives I have to live through to make it happen, it will. Forever and through .”

My words fall on her skin as my lips kiss her velvety forehead. Squeezing her tighter for good measure in case it’s the last time I ever do before I turn, heading back the direction I came in, leaving my heart on that thin red line at her feet—Forever and through.

“Walk away; that’s what everyone always does.”

—Ivy

Pushing him away isn’t easy, and watching him walk away with such ease is torture. I wish for once in his life he would fucking fight for me—for us. Rage engulfs me as I stare at his back, and I’m not ready to close this chapter without a fight.

“Typical, you just walk away without a fight,”

I shout at the top of my lungs across the empty building, my arms tight against my chest, hugging myself. My words land on his ears, and in a second, he turns to me, his eyes engulfed with rage, his words echoing off the metal walls.

“I’m not allowed to fucking fight for you.”

I’m taken aback by his tone; he’s never spoken to me like this, but I welcome it, and all it does to my body. There you go, get mad, get angry, fucking say something for once that matters, that means something. He’s never been a rageful man. His ability to remain level-headed and calm is envious. Chills down my spine, his testament excites me in areas that aren’t normal considering the circumstances.

“How would you know? You’ve never fucking tried. You always take what I say at face value. I’ve never been worthy of the fight in you; you’ve made that very fucking clear with your passive-aggressive bullshit. I’m worth fucking, though. I’m worth fucking up the one good thing I had going with Liam, but no, not worth fucking fighting for when I’m sending you out the fucking door packing for good.”

His steps become swift as he charges toward me, his finger aimed at the ground, the veins in his neck bulging.

“It’s not that I won’t fight for you. I came to terms years ago that I wasn’t allowed to. You have made that very fucking clear with not only your actions but your chessboard fucking words. I could stand before you right now completely fucking broken and tell you all the things you crave to hear from me, but it won’t fucking matter—I know it just as do you, so don’t patronize me, don’t you fucking dare put this all on me.”

“Mkkk. Patronize, what a fucking word coming from you. That’s all you’ve ever done; all the missed calls left never returned? Or maybe let’s talk about the text messages left on read. The endless apologies for leaving me constantly dangling, leading to all the times we stopped talking. Your apologies are so played out with zero follow-through after them. Let’s not fucking act like you are a fucking saint.”

“Your right, I fuck up, and my actions don’t always match my words Ivy. I’m a fucked up man with issues I don’t know how to always fix. I’m selfish at times, most of the time, and you deserve so much more. You think I don’t know that? But I do know my fucking limits, our limits, and you saying I won’t fight for you is bullshit. I can’t fight for someone who isn’t ever going to let me win. Your rule, Your game, Your move. We are all just fucking pieces on the board.”

“Oh, you think you fucking know me? You think you know how I’d react if you fucking fought for me? Okay, T. Just walk out the door, go ahead. I’m giving you your fucking out. Consider yourself left on read.”

“Ivy, yes, I fucking know because I have watched you play the same fucking game I have all these years.

You want me to tell you I love you more than myself? Well, I fucking do.

I wish every day that you would love yourself as much as I love you, but the truth is I could stand in front of you right now and tell you to choose me like you want me to choose you, but you and I both know you will never leave Liam.

You will never give up the stability you have.

It’s the entire fucking reason you killed Red.

Your love for me, and her love for me, haunts you, and you want me to choose you, but I have, and I always did.

I’m not going to fucking give you what you want when we both know you will never reciprocate it.

We can’t have each other the way we crave.

We can’t ride off in the goddamn sunset and build a life together because if I ask you to choose me, I’m asking you to give him up, and I would never fucking ask you to do something I know you can’t.

Something that would further break you.

You don’t want me to fight for you.

You want to know I will if you asked, and I may not be fucking perfect, but God dammit Ivy, I have never demanded something of you I know you can’t give.

It’s a game, one I know how to play, and I choose not to because the damage this game brings lands us exactly where we are right now, ripping what we have had apart, and that’s the last fucking thing I ever wanted.

You think I haven’t fought for you, but the truth, Amor, is having you the way I do was always better than never having you at all, and if you think that makes me a bitch, then I’m a fucking bitch, Ivy Sage Rutledge.

I’m a broken, reckless bitch of a man who calculated the pros and cons and came to terms with the fact that having you in an imperfect way was better than not having you at all.

I never fought for you because you told me not to every step of the goddamn way.

You have reminded me every moment what asking that would bring, so I fucking made my own choice.

I cherished what you could give.

I did as you asked, and I’d do it again to experience the last year we’ve had.

All the years we’ve had, from the moment I sat next to you on that bus, to the moment I gave you that smiley face ring, all the way up to this moment, and I’d relive it all because I fucking love you .

I love you so much it hurts.

I chose you, and I’d choose you again and again; you just have to fucking let me.

Until then, you don’t get to scold me for doing what you’ve asked, no , what you’ve demanded of me all these years.”

His words strike a nerve, and in an instant, I want to crawl into a hole and die.

I’ve always had the words, and I’m wordless in this heated moment, unsure of anything except what needs to be done.

He’s not wrong.

I have never wanted him to force me to make a choice.

To choose is not something I am sure I could ever do.

If I was forced to, he’s probably right, I would choose Liam.

The game I am playing has turned on me, and I suddenly want off this warped merry-go-round now.

Hearing his words feels good and horrible all in the same.

To see there is a fight in him, a desire in him to have me and love me, is all I’ve truly sought from him, but he’s right.

I am being selfish, and asking him to do that is unfair, for the pendulum would never swing in his favor, or maybe it would.

I don’t think I could ever choose.

I should tell him that, but to do such gives him power; it would mean giving up the game.

I would never choose Liam over him, nor would I choose him over Liam.

My love is forever stuck in a purgatory state of the unknown, and I just wish I could have both.

Why does shared custody only apply to children? Fuck, I’ve made a mess.

He’s so fucking right; he can’t choose me.

It’s always been my choice, and I need to let him go.

My love is divided, and my boundaries are unfair.

But his words feed my tattered soul, piecing it back just a little hearing them.

“I never needed you to choose me, just to know you would, and you’re right. That’s so unfair, which is why we can’t continue this any further. We are toxic to ourselves and those in our lives. You’ve given me what I asked, you’ve expressed yourself for the first time without reserve, and I fucking thank you for that. We both know what comes next: me telling you to leave, you agree with me, and we go our separate ways. I am sorry I am such a fucking mess. I am sorry for taking Red from you, but I will never apologize for forcing you to fucking tell me your true thoughts. I will cherish them forever, but you are right, T. I want the knowledge and the power, not the reality it brings.”

I ache as I watch him break with my half-truths because I do want him, and I want a life with him. I want to tell him I feel all the things he just said, but I can’t. I just fucking can’t, with no true idea as to why except fear.

“Ivy, we can continue to have both. We made that pact to never ask the other to choose years ago. Let’s just erase this all and continue how we were. Was it really so bad, Amor? Fuck Red, it has always been you and I that matters the most. I cannot lose you too.”

“We can’t, T, because no matter how much I never want you to ask me to choose, I will always be searching for you to choose me and mad at you when you don’t, regardless of our reality. I crave you desperately, in some of the most reckless ways.”

“Promise me it’s not forever; promise me you’ll at least reconsider.”

“I can’t promise anything. I don’t know our future any more than nine-year-old me knew mine when I stood in this building as your girlfriend all those years ago. But I can promise you I will love you from a distance and in silence forever, but for now and the foreseeable future, we cannot communicate anymore. I need time. I need to heal and process this all. I need to be okay with what became of us and find happiness in all I’ve created with him. I’m sorry.”

His cold hands that I fucking love hug my face, his lips leaning into mine. Making a split-minute decision, I pull away. I know if I let him kiss me, I’ll need more, and this cycle must end. “I can’t even have a kiss?”

“You know we can never stop at that; I love you, T.”

“I love you too, Ivy Sage Rutledge. I truly hope you forgive all those who harmed you, not because they deserve it but because you do. Maybe then you can finally forgive yourself and see in you what Liam and I have since the day we met you. For what it’s worth, this building didn’t make you. You made you. There will come a time when you learn to love what happened to you, and then I know you will learn to love who it made of you. From where I stand, she’s the kindest, strongest, purest woman ever to walk across these floors that the world doesn’t deserve. You will be okay; you always are, but please stop killing people. You were perfect.”

His words sharp as ice, freezing my soul, the pressure creating new cracks. The weight they carry in truth is haunting but hopeful. He’s right. I need to learn to love my pain and find the beauty in my wreckage. It’s the only way. I thought I always had, in some magnitude, but that’s the beauty in perception, it’s built by many layers. There are three ways to look at something, from your point of view, theirs, and the world’s. As far as my soul is concerned, I need to find a new perspective if I have any hope of finding peace.

“Forever and through.”

“Take care of yourself, my star-crossed lover.”

Time stands still, watching him dislodge from my presence, the door latching behind him loudly. I wait until his engine revs, the RPMs fading off into the distance, merely faint noises. Falling to my knees, my hands claw at my clothes, only the walls of my past and the torture of my present now swarm me. Letting out years of pent-up aggression, demonic screams fill the room, traveling to all the others in this old metal tombstone. I need to get high; I need to be fucked. Unapologetically, without bond or emotion, and that’s exactly what I plan to fucking do. Peace will have to wait.

Ivy: Can I come over?

Unknown: I thought you’d never ask, baby girl. I’m here; yous know the code.