Page 51 of Sacred

Not…whateverthisis. This painful, frigid chill creeping through my soul and settling into my heart.

Why?

I tightly rein in my emotions and don’t give a damn thing away. My pain is private and agonizing, but I won’t share it with the world.

I also won’t break my word to my boy, even if it appears he’s walked away from me.

As the days go by, then weeks, there is nothing but silence. Ward checks his voice mail, because themailbox is fullmessage goes away.

My texts don’t bounce back.

E-mails I send him from the account I used only for us, to a secret account of his, never receive a reply.

They don’t bounce back, either.

A month later, on a rainy Saturday, all of these things combine make me curl up on my bed in a studio apartment that feels damned empty without Ward and finally release the gut-shredding, hysterical cry my soul’s been bleeding to have.

I am forced to admit I am alone, and every plan in my head I thought would include Ward now must be changed.

No more delays, no more excuses.

No more.

I’ve spent the last month in limbo, working, studying for the bar exam, and trying to exist.

Going to church and sitting there, barely hearing the sermon and thinking about all the hours we sat in church together.

I try to read my Bible but can’t pull together enough brain cells to concentrate on it.

All as I spend hours every night staring at pictures and watching videos of Ward. Of the only proof of our seven years together, and I’m left unable to move forward without closure.

Could I maybe track Ward down in Georgia? Try to pass word to him through his father’s firm?

I mean, I did Google him. The website changed yesterday and now sports one Ward Mason Callahan as the newest member of the firm.

No picture, thankfully. That would probably destroy me.

I’m sure if I call, they’ll patch me through to his extension.

But this is a pretty definitive if not indirect answer, isn’t it?

So today, I’ll cry him out of my system and then move the fuck on. I won’t be a cunt and cause trouble for him. If he felt this was his only option when I offered him a life outside his father’s reach…

Well, I don’t want to force or beg someone to be with me if that’s not what they want.

I just wish I’d meant enough to him after seven years to give me an explanation, an opportunity to say good-bye, and more than two words scribbled on a piece of paper.