I wrote this last year, shortly after I had had a bad fallout with my ex.
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A flash of lightning lights up the evening sky; I crumble to the ground in fear, crawling to the nearest tree as fast as I can in a hopeless attempt to find shelter. The rain, unforgiving, pours down suddenly with increasing desperation, drenching me within seconds. A ghostly figure running off into the distance-is that who I think it is? It turns around slowly, dark and unrecognizable in the storm. I try to scream for help but nothing comes out. The figure slowly approaches; I am frozen, helpless, on the ground and covered in dirt, unable to escape. A young man, I acknowledge in fear, as he stops in front of me. I look up in sheer terror, furiously wondering who this stranger is, when suddenly the sky lights up yet again, revealing his face to me. Of course it was him. The only one who had my heart and now held it in pieces. He smirks evilly and takes out a gun. His lips part for a fraction of an inch as he mutters the words “Go to hell, you bitch.” Then everything went black.
I woke up in a cold sweat, screaming bloody murder. My eyes flew open in horror; I realized that my face was soaking wet with tears. I hurriedly reached for a tissue next to my bedside and wiped my face furiously, sobbing sporadically while trying to catch my breath. It was the third night in a row that I had had the same nightmare, and I was beginning to feel haunted and empty inside. Outside, a thunderstorm raged, mocking my broken state. How ironic, I thought bitterly. I threw the tissue onto the floor in rage; at that moment I couldn’t care less about being tidy. I hugged my bolster, trying to draw comfort from its softness. Who knew that 7 years of friendship, of love, would disappear just like that? And I hadn’t even been given a chance to explain myself. Of course it was my fault, of course I was the source of his heartache, and of course I was the bitch and the slut. In his eyes, he would always be the victim. Perfect. And I would always be, as usual, nothing but his toy, a piece of meat that served the sole purpose of satisfying his sexual cravings, or just to look pretty on his arm whenever we went out together.
I pressed my face into my blanket, trying to prevent myself from breaking down again. I had been completely devastated when he suddenly decided to cut me out of his life, all because I had been too preoccupied in the past month with my studies and was unable to talk to him every day or to take him out for his birthday. I gritted my teeth in anger, recalling his cold reply when I begged him, in tears, to read the email that I had sent him to explain my side of the story; his cruel smirk when he told me nonchalantly that he just wanted me to suffer the pain of being ignored just as he had. I was still haunted by the memory of being falsely accused of countless falsified wrongdoings, assumptions of my so-called new personality. How could anybody be so cruel? I went into a state of depression for a week after that incident, appalled at the behaviour of the person who was supposed to be my best friend. We had sworn that we were going to be friends forever no matter what disagreements we might have; and fate had taken a cruel turn as I watched him walk away, my world steadily crumbling around me. Evidently people do change over time, and I was forced to accept the unpleasant reality of sometimes having to sever friendships that had become toxic.
What do I do now? I ruminated sadly while wiping away a stray tear that had made its way down onto my cheek. The man whom I knew I was falling for was on the other side of the world, and the man who had been my closest companion since I was a teenager was now a stranger and an enemy to me. I was alone for the first time in a long time, and it scared me more than anything else in the world. I had to be strong, for my own sake. A familiar phrase floated to the surface of my mind: there are plenty of fish in the sea. I took a few moments to let that phrase sink in, when my cell phone on my bedside table suddenly started vibrating. I picked it up, grinning when I saw that the caller was not local. I pressed the call button, and took a deep breath. “Hi.”