Breathe

This is very poorly edited but I'd love all feedback its greatly appreciated!

I left him.

Kissed him.

And with a smile upon my lips in our last kiss I slid a blade into his back.

I stared at my reflection in the cracked mirror observing my bare apricot lips, which let my gaze drop its attention on the dark circles under my eyes against my olive skin. All the while, reminiscing the last moment we shared before I left Florida. There was never a day that passed when I never thought about it. Thought about him. Because every morning I woke up, with it being a reminder of my life I had given up. Everyone morning, the same event replayed like a muted black and while film. Then I bow my head exhaling the heaviness as I’ve done countless times before trying to rid it all. Except, I was still chained. My soul was penalizing me even a thousand miles away.

It would be a lie to say I don’t recall what happened the day I decided to leave unannounced. Except, that’s the only truth I can give. The dark snow clouds of December’s evening sky closed the day into the night. As I kept contemplating what this burst of adrenaline was coursing through me and what I could do to calm it down. I drank until my throat went numb. I’d smoked an entire pack of Camel’s. But there was never a plan from the start for my departure, it just happened. It had tricked my heart into apprehension I wasn’t prepared for.

But, I couldn’t handle the feeling of someone’s hands tightened around my neck anymore, it became harder to breathe in his presence, and it became exhausting trying to hide the turmoil developed in my heart when I looked into his eyes. No note was left. Knowing when he awoke that next morning to an empty lukewarm space beside him, the love endeavored, to the missing garments from the closet which belonged to me. I’d chosen to excuse my presence from our eternal hope. How could’ve a written letter provide empathetic reassurance for my choice? These were the type of stories women like me enraged over when the infidelity of men was committed toward us. Comical wasn’t it? I wouldn’t even hold it against him if he never forgave me.

I couldn’t even forgive myself… I don’t know if I ever will.

I sighed, shaking the thoughts away before unscrewing the cap of the gold plastic tube. Only when my heart had relaxed in rhythm was soon disturbed from a loud bang that came from the front of my apartment. Caused the makeup to slip from my hands marking the porcelain basin in peach. I swallowed, quickly making my way down the hall as the harsh banging continued to rattle the door.

“I know you’re in there Chadwick!”

My feet halted at the sound of the voice it belonged to and cussed under my breath. It was when I heard that voice, it’d been beyond my thought to whom could be here at eight-thirty in the morning. Of all the hours in the day he decided to come by now.

Well you knew it was bound to happen sooner or later he never missed to make a weekly visit. And to think I was being just a little clever by heading off to work early.

Matt Faulkner.

There were a lot of things I could say about this man. But one thing I hoped for was to avoid any more encounters with him.

I looked around swiftly at the mess of papers from the night before strewn across the rug, gathered air into my lungs, before I stepped forth unlocking the door open.

I breathed out. “Matt.”

A crease of wrinkles from obvious signs of crow’s feet pressed together in a glare, greeted me.

“I shouldn’t have to come here to remind you what today is should I Ms. Chadwick?”

I blinked. My eyes roamed over his balding head, unsure of what he was referring to.

“Um I believe it’s Tuesday–”

“Making your rent four days late.”

I nodded. ‘So we were going to start the morning off with this conversation again’. I was resisting the urge to slam the door in his face and resume getting ready for work.

Instead I tried to remain calm.

“Matt,I told you I’m working on it...” in my peripheral vision a curtain moved in the window of my next door neighbor’s caught my attention, watching her nosily peek from behind the curtain watching us. My eyes flickered back to Matt missing whatever it was he’d been raving about. “Wait-why are we having this conversation? We- you agreed you would give me a week’s extension to come up with the money.”

“Well I’m changing my mind,” he sneered “I have someone who’s looking to rent this apartment with two months down payment”

“What? Y-you can’t do that! You can’t kick me out!” I shrieked,

“You gave me your word! I’ve got a lot on my plate right now, Matt please, don’t do this. I assure you my priorities with the-”

“I don’t give a damn about what your priorities are.” he spat stepping toward me, “Listen well. You don’t have my money by tomorrow see it your priority to find packing boxes. Because as of tomorrow this place is sold.” the stench of coffee and garlic hit me as he got in my face.

My face was caught tightly in void of emotion as I bit my tongue refraining from saying something I would regret. I watched him step back and begin back down the stairs, before he got into his car and drove off while I stood there in an enraged defeat. Life was hard. Being an adult was harder. A part of me started to wonder if being kicked out would be such a bad thing. Then I realized I had nowhere to go if I did. I glanced back across the building to Mrs. Foster’s who quickly drew the curtain closed.

I stepped back inside and slammed the door shut feeling my lips beginning to purse. I walked to the fridge and grabbed out a carton of milk. I didn’t need this shit this morning. Now I had worrisome frustration to what I was going to do if I lost my apartment. Not being completely honest with myself knew I would lose this apartment. What are you going to do Alana? Something in my chest constricted so I ignored it by swallowing it back down. Twenty minutes I had to be at work and to waste all this time with Matt I could’ve been a quarter of the way there by now.

Placing the bowl filled with wet oatmeal into the microwave my gaze drifted out the paint chipped double hung window of the kitchen, below to the dirty slush streets. My eyes darted back and forth trying to keep up with the flurries swirling in chaos past the window.

I couldn’t control what came next part of me fighting with myself resisted, the other wanted-needed the nostalgia that was resurfacing. Moving back here made me want to run back in that direction. To run into his arms because he always made things better. But, He also brought an ache into my heart which was why I tried to forget. I hated the snow because it always reminded me of him. But would it be wrong to say it was the realist thing I’ve experienced since I moved here? Reminding me I wasn’t completely lost in this world. Although it was painful to remember it brought this unending warmth to my heart I couldn’t describe.

A gentle smile began to hug my lips. I felt two arms wrapped around my waist pulling me against their body.

“What are you doing out here it’s like eight degrees?” his lips brushed against my ear trickling a warmth down my neck that warmed my heart.

Cold droplets melted against my face as I inhaled and exhaled the frosty air, a blurry picture of white stared me in the face once I re-opened my eyes

I was so entranced taking in every piece of this landscape in front of me I didn’t pay attention to the decreasing heat of my body, causing me to shiver back against him. The trees were draped with snow, creating a dome over the crystal pond, leading further into the forest while a small doe appeared from a holly bush. Clarissa’s Grove; my secret winter escapade.

“It’s so beautiful…you can’t help to admire it. I wish I could have it and it wouldn’t melt away.”

“You’re such a sap your know that?” he spoke softly visualizing the teasing grin against his lips, as he kissed the top of my head.

The beeping of the microwave snapped me out of my thoughts, blinking back the burn growing behind my eyelids. Eight months. Fourteen days. I’ve been the same overpriced shit hole apartment, dealing with a tyranny back and forth with a landlord who was money hungry, and the only time he was a ‘civil’ human being was when he was getting the monthly rent. Then there’s the fact I was back in Laurdale which I was struggling to be ‘okay’ with.

‘So why don’t you just go back home?’ my conscious questioned.

'That’s not an option' I snapped back.

Grabbing a spoon out the drying rack, the small box of raisins from the counter, I sat at the table with my bowl and began to eat. Eight months and fourteen days, making it October 8th; I’m still in this city and I’m not entirely certain why. I could’ve gone anywhere in the entire world yet I came back here of all places.