Page 41 of My Treasured Obsession

Fuck him and that nasty-ass visual. I was so over him. He’d done nothing but cause me heartache for the last year. Franco and I might have had a sweet start, being childhood friendsturned to lovers, but our ending was going to be sour. And though I was an individual quick to accept my flaws, he was not. He had a penchant for flirting with every other girl but his girlfriend now that he’d become the captain of the soccer team. Well, count me out. I was done with this playboy behaviour. I never signed up for it. Nor would I stick around for him to make a mockery of me.

“That’s it!” I hopped off his bed and tried to skirt around his tall frame. He blocked my path. I hated when he threw his weight around and reminded me that I was small and defenceless compared to him. I used my elbow to nudge him aside and it worked. I quickly headed for his door while hollering, “We’re done. Go to Gertrude. Put your tongue down her throat. Your dick inside of her too. I no longer care,stronzo!”

“Gabriela, get back here!”

On my way out of his room, I grabbed the paperweight action figurine I gave him for his sixteenth birthday and shot it against the hallway wall, smashing it to pieces. If I had more time, I’d have destroyed every gift I’d given him to celebrate our relationship.

But I was too focused on the tears stinging my eyes. I had to get out of here fast. I couldn’t let him see me cry.

“Gabriela!” Franco bellowed, his wrenching shout almost causing me to pause. “Don’t walk away from me!”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore!” I enunciated, stomping down the stairs. “Fuck you, Franco!”

His thundering footsteps followed mine. “Fuck you, Gabriela!” He grabbed my shoulder and turned me around forcefully, razing, “You don’t get to finish this!”

The vein in his temple was throbbing and I had this murderous urge to pop it with a pin and let him bleed to death.

“I can do whatever I want! I’ve had enough of you treating me horribly!” I yelled back. “First, it was verbal abuse and now you’re emotionally cheating on me too? I’m so over your shit. You wasted my time, Franco. Three years of my life. Down the drain.” My face reddened as my voice cracked. “If I could go back in the past, I’d never accept that first date or say yes to being yours.”

It was the first time I vocalized these thoughts, mostly because it took me a really long time to realize that abuse wasn’t always physical. It came in many forms, including the verbal one Franco doled out. If he played a bad game, he took it out on me. If he received a bad grade, he took it out on me. If he had a bad day—he also took it out on me. I was his metaphorical punching bag and somewhere along the way, after all these blows, I was deflated and empty.

Who could blame me for fighting back and finally putting my foot down?

Franco recoiled from my words like they were a physical lash. Like his disgusting behaviour never occurred to him. Even now, he stared at me as though I was a liar.

I supposed bad people never saw themselves as villains.

That was Franco’s issue.

He thought himself godly, untouchable, and infallible.

Proving him wrong and kicking him off his high horse would be my greatest retribution.

As he soaked in my words, it slowly transformed his expression into a furious scowl that told me he was readying himself to rip into me. I braced myself, leaning back on the balls of my feet.

“Now here’s a reality check for you: you’re an attention seeker and loving you is exhausting. Do you hear that, Gabriela? Loving. You. Is. A. Fucking. Chore. You want the world to revolve around you and God forbid I have alife outside of your desires. Like shit, spending time with other people—talking to other girls—is not a crime. Yet you constantly make me feel like an asshole for not being there for you twenty-four seven. I used to be willing to deal with your tantrums, your mood swings, your goddamn neediness, but nowI’mdone. You’re unlovable. You’re worthless. And you’re a bitch with only two redeeming qualities. Your tight pussy and your blowjob skills,” he said frostily, every syllable driving into me like icy pin pricks. “You were a waste of my fucking time too. I obviously wasn’t thinking straight all those years ago when I asked you out. If I knew better, I’d never have bothered. Girls like you are only good for one thing. My bad for mistaking you one step above a whore.”

The tears I tried to halt coursed down my face, a hot and angry waterfall blurring my vision until Franco was nothing but a faded silhouette.

If he’d driven a knife into my back, it would have hurt less than this.

Bitch. Unlovable. Worthless.

Two redeeming qualities. Tight pussy. Blowjob skills.

One step above a whore.

I pushed him back with all my strength until his back collided against a wall with a prominent crack. “Fuck you, Franco!”

Franco couldn’t hide his wince, but he watched me with coldness. “Aputtananever likes being reminded of her place, huh? Get lost, Gabriela, and don’t ever darken my doorstep again.”

“Rot in hell, disgraziato.”

Hating myself for letting him tear into me and for ever loving this vile human, I pivoted around and ran away, my breathing laboured and my broken heart thudding inside of me.

When I arrived back home, my parents were in the living room, and I told them that Franco and I had split amicably while trying to wipe my tears. I didn’t tell them about the hurtful words we’d exchanged, knowing it would break Mamma’s heart and Papà wouldn’t hesitate to teach Franco a lesson.

Afterwards, I locked myself in my room and had a panic attack.