Until The End

I just wanted to put a TW in. There will be talk of self-harm, depression, suicide, assault, abuse, rape, and even darker things. If this isn’t something you can read, I completely understand. This story might not be for you, and that’s okay!

I wish nothing but the best for all of you! That’s all!

🖤xoxo, HR🖤

How do you continue to fight when there isn’t anything left to fight for? I thought I had it all.

The perfect life.

What I had was far from perfection. I just hadn’t figured it out yet. I was in an 11-year relationship with my high school sweetheart, Christian Marshall.

We met in 6th grade when he moved to the tiny town I was born and raised in. We had become instant friends. In 8th grade, we started dating and stayed happily together throughout high school.

In college, we decided we would work through the long distance. He went to an ivy-league law school, while I went to the local community college for social work.

You see, our families are very different. He comes from an extremely wealthy family. His dad owns a law firm and is a very successful prosecutor while his mom is a highly successful real estate agent.

My mom, who has been a single parent of two since our dad passed in a work accident when my brother was a baby, works long hours at the 24-hour diner.

I’m positive Christian and I’s relationship never had his parent’s approval, even in middle school. That was the first of many red flags.

Since high school, his parents had been trying to hook him up with any rich white girl they knew. He never went for it as far as I know, but now that everything has happened, I’m not so sure.

I recently graduated and quickly found a job working for Social Services. I don’t get paid a lot and the hours are long, but I truly try to make a difference, and that’s all that matters to me.

After everything happened, I had to move back in with my mom, Maria, and my 19-year-old brother, Luis, until I can get back on my feet.

Embarrassing, I know. I’m in my 20s and had to go running back to my mom.

I guess you’re probably asking what happened. Well, it all started about 2 years ago when Christian first received an internship at his father’s law firm, Marshall & Conley, after his first year of law school.

I didn’t know it yet, but Maddison Conley was also going to law school and received an internship at the same firm. Her dad is partners with Christian’s dad after all.

Everything was fine until around 8 months ago. That’s when he started cheating on me with, you guessed it, Maddison. I would’ve never figured it out if my trusty 13-year-old laptop hadn’t broken.

This morning, I needed to send an urgent email and decided to use his MacBook; he had given me the password a while ago, and I assumed he wouldn’t mind since it was for work and urgent.

I guess in hindsight I should’ve asked. I’m sure he would’ve refused and given me some excuse about privacy and client confidentiality and I would’ve respected it and raced to the library.

But I took it upon myself to use my boyfriend’s laptop and I don’t regret it. Especially after finding the crazy amount of evidence of his infidelity.

And no, before you ask, I didn’t go snooping. I’ve always respected his privacy, especially with him becoming a lawyer and all. The messages were already open when I put in the password. I was about to exit when I saw all the heart emojis and kissy faces.

My heart immediately dropped to my stomach, and my breakfast threatened to come back up. He didn’t talk to me like that anymore. I knew the instant I saw all the emojis that something was up.

He’d been acting very distant in the last year. Before then, it was just like high school. We were always fun and carefree. We never fought, but towards the end of our relationship, we were fighting every day about the stupidest stuff.

While I’m sitting there dumbfounded staring at his MacBook’s screen, a new message pops up from his mom, which automatically switches the screen to their texts.

If I thought my heart couldn’t possibly shatter any more, it did. His mom was asking Christian when he was finally going to let go of the “sad excuse” of a woman he was with so they could break the news of his engagement with Maddison to the press.

Yeah, we were together for 10 years and hadn’t even broken up yet, and yet he had already proposed to her.

I felt like I didn’t have a heart anymore, and the ordeal left me empty inside. I wouldn’t allow them the satisfaction of seeing me break down, so I left on my own terms.

It was still early in the day and he was working late that night, thank God, so I had time to prepare everything perfectly.

First, I called my mom, explained everything, and asked her to have Luis bring his old rusted Ford so I could move out all my stuff.

After that, I sent the urgent email I had originally needed to send. I went ahead and used his computer to change all of the passwords he knew, and to the accounts he had access to.

After 10 years, we practically shared everything, so it took me a good hour or two to change it all. I called the banks to have them remove me from the accounts and open my own so I could have my checks transferred over.

Next, I printed out screenshots of the proof and laid them out all over our bed so he would know exactly why I was gone.

Then, I packed everything. I took anything I had bought, down to the last butter knife and cleaning supplies. I removed any picture I could find myself in and burned them in the fireplace.

I did everything in my power to remove my presence from this apartment and his life. To him, Isabella Díez never existed.

Between Luis’ truck and my ’96 Corolla, it only took us 1 trip to move all my stuff back to my childhood home.

I canceled my Amazon Prime and all my other subscriptions like Netflix and Apple Music. If I can afford it, I’ll resubscribe in a few months, but for now, I’d rather just save the money.

After disconnecting the phone number, I completely wipe the iPhone and leave it on the counter since it was on his plan. I have a bit of cash saved up, so I’ll have to go out and get a basic phone with a new number soon.

I leave all my cards to our shared bank accounts, my keys to the Porsche 911 Turbo S which had been an anniversary gift, and the penthouse keycard on the counter right next to the phone.

I walk through every room one last time to make sure I didn’t forget anything since I’ll never be coming back. I take one last look at the stunning city view from the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room and by 11:30 pm, I leave the luxurious penthouse for the last time.

When I finally get to my mom’s house, it’s well after midnight and everyone else is asleep. I walk into my old cramped room and decide to take a shower.

I’m thankful my family has brought some boxes with my clothes and toiletries up to my room already. I head to the bathroom that I am now going to be sharing with everyone.

Definitely no longer in a luxurious house with 7 bedrooms and 10 bathrooms.

Mom remembered how I like to take long showers when I’m anxious or upset, so she had fresh towels and a washcloth folded up and waiting for me on the toilet.

I turn on the water to the hottest it’ll go and strip off my clothes before stepping into the already steamed-up shower. I welcome the harsh searing burn of the practically boiling water splattering all over my body.

I self-harmed in the past, and this was the one coping mechanism that worked for me besides cutting. The past is actually what got me into the line of work I’m in. I want to make a difference in children’s lives, the difference that no one made in mine.

After a few minutes, the reality of today set in and breaks through the shock. I fall to the shower floor and begin sobbing so violently I’m not even making a sound.

I can barely breathe as the sobs leave me and tears are streaming down my face along with the scalding droplets of water.

I know if I don’t stay quiet I’ll have either my mom or brother banging on the door asking if I’m okay and I’m the type who doesn’t like to talk about my problems.

I just bottle everything up until it works itself out or I’m sobbing on the floor of a boiling shower. I know it isn’t healthy, but until I can afford therapy again, it’s what I’ll have to do.

After an hour or so, the water runs cold, and I begin shivering. Once I’m sure I’m turning blue and purple, I shut the water off and dry my hair and body. I’m physically and emotionally exhausted, so I quickly dress in my warm flannel pajamas and open the bathroom door.

On the quick trip to my room, I pass my mom’s. It surprises me to see her bedside lamp casting a soft yellow glow through the crack of her door since it was almost 2 am at this point. As I go to pass, I hear her speaking quietly on the phone.

“No, you’ve done quite enough.”

“She’s in the shower so she can’t come to the phone.”

“It’s how she copes, Christian.”

So that’s who she’s talking to. I stop and lean in closer to the small opening.

“How do you expect her to react? Imagine being with a woman for this long, thinking she wants to marry you and create a life with you, only to find out she’s been cheating and is already engaged to another person,” she whisper-yells at him.

“I don’t care how ’sorry’ you are, Christian. I care about the girl who’s sobbing on my shower floor with an empty hole in her chest. The sweetest, most precious girl in the world who would’ve done anything and everything for you.”

“You’ll realize one day how big of a mistake you’ve made and by then I pray God has blessed her with a real man and I hope she laughs in your face.”

I hope so too, mom.

“Well, I can’t say the same to you, Christian. I hope you suffer for what you’ve done to my daughter. Now I will not let you waste another second of my time.”

I hear the soft click of her hanging up on my now ex-boyfriend and I walk to my room.

As I lay in bed and try to process what happened today, finally I drift off to sleep.