Love Hurts

I’m lying on the sofa next to him. Just looking at him increases my heartbeat. He’s my best friend, the first I’ve ever trusted. In the dark room only lit by the television’s screen light, he slithers closer to me, slightly touching my legs. He holds my hand and interlocks fingers.

For a second, I feel breathless. But a good breathless, the best kind. I’ve dreamed about this moment since I’ve met him three years ago. I’ve always had a crush on him, but I never had the guts to say anything. Now he is basically confessing he likes me back. I can’t stop beaming, and I stare at his pitch-black eyes.

“Your hands are warm,” he whispers smiling, “I’ve always thought an ice queen like you would have colder skin.”

“Very funny,” I roll my eyes with his dumb joke.

He keeps calling me ice queen because the day we’ve met, he tried to come talk to me while I was sitting alone on my phone and I grunted, “If you don’t leave in five seconds, I’ll act in self-defense.” He thought I was joking; I wasn’t. Being the weird kid with the even weirder family taught me the hard way to stand up for myself. But as he was used to being loved by everyone, he just sat and chatted with me. And his charm… gosh it worked on me.

He leans closer and lays his head on my shoulder. I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer. The closest I ever allowed someone to get to me. I can feel his relaxed, steady breathing against my neck.

“You know… you’re special to me,” he whispers, “You’re my favorite person.”

“Even when I beat you on COD?” I joke.

“Even when you cheat on COD,” he smirks.

“Don’t act all butthurt. Your aim sucks.”

“Or maybe you’re just good. Like you’re good at many other things.”

“Like what?” I face him, failing to hold back a smile.

“You’re great at being intense, passionate.”

“Well… people get scared of that,” I shift my eyes to the side, “I don’t think that’s a skill to be good at.”

“But I do,” his eyes shift from my eyes to my lips, “It makes me fall harder for you.”

I lean closer and we kiss. I feel my face flushing and warming. I’ve waited years for this moment. For him. A dream come true. The world makes sense for the first time. The loneliness inside me finally disappears.

When I let him go, he can’t stop gazing deeply into my eyes.

“I love you.”

One Week Later

My heart is still racing while I knock at his door. I can’t stop thinking about that night. Life became colorful for the first time. Now I finally understand why people talk so highly of love. Love does fix everything.

He opens the door for me. My heart crashes when I see a pretty, skinny, blonde girl hugging him. He has his arm around her.

“Hey!” he says with a smile, “I want you to meet Jessica, my new girlfriend.”

This has got to be a sick joke.

“This is not funny,” I groan with a deadly stare.

“I’m so excited to meet you!” Jessica pulls me in a hug with a genuine smile, “He said so many nice things about you.”

I’m still speechless with a blank stare. He gives me the usual “be nice please” look when I’m being rude to someone. That hurts like a slap on the face.

“Your girlfriend,” I repeat trying to make sense of the situation. He nods like it was obvious. “So… could you please explain me what ‘we’ are?”

He laughs. I force myself to hold my tears in.

“Best friends, silly. You’re like my little sister.”

“Little sister? What kind of incestuous relationship do we have?” I go off on him.

“Well, that was just friend things,” he shrugs.

I can’t deal with this anymore without bursting into tears. I storm off back home.

I’m on my knees, with my face buried in my hands. I can’t stop the tears, even though I hate them; it makes me feel weak. I feel it dripping and forming a puddle in my hands. But I’m too broken to fake it, to pretend I’m strong.

My long hair falls over my face and hides me like a curtain. I’m wearing my cutest pair of overalls with a brand-new beige shirt. My favorite brown boots are thrown on the other side of my room. My mascara and eyeliner are all smudged on my face and hands. I hoped I would look cute for him; that he would appreciate it and say I looked nice. What a waste of time.

How could I humiliate myself this way? How could I chase him around like a lost puppy? It’s all my fault. I deserved this.

I-I just wished he loved me too.

My mind is spiraling. Thoughts are increasingly heavier. Pain. Unbearable pain. Eternal pain. The only thing I most wanted in this world won’t happen. He will never be mine. He… doesn’t love me. No guy ever will.

The problem with heart break is that the only thing that can compete with it is anger. I hate him with every inch of my body. How could he do this to me? How could I be so foolish to fall for someone like him, to be allowed to be hurt by him. And the worst part? I still love him. I would still trade anything to kiss and be held by him once again.

The pain escalates and panic takes over my body. I throw myself on the ground closing my eyes begging this to stop. I scream and bawl while my head feels like it will explode. Everything seems blurry, confusing, out of touch. I’m scared I’ll lose control. I’m scared I will crack. I’m afraid I’ll become mad.

I put my hands on my hair and clench my fists. My body begins to vibrate. Is this what having a psychotic breakdown feels like? Is this just me falling into insanity?

My hands feel… charged, like when you accidentally shock people. I look at them and there’s this dark energy emanating from it. I wiggle my fingers and feel this energy lightly flight through it like a soft blanket of silk.

I would have thought I had gone insane, if my family wasn’t part sorcerer. And who would guess a panic attack would be the trigger of my dormant powers after all these years.

I come from an extensive lineage of sorcerers. Sorcerers hide between normal humans, while in the shadows we learn to control and manage our powers. Some sorcerers use their powers to help others, others to conquer powers, others just to live a normal life between humans. Just like the rest of my family. At least we try.

I feel the energy holding me, comforting me. I feel it’s warmth and care. Sorcerers and their powers generally have a strong bond. Even though we mostly act as its inanimate tool, it still has something more. Something alive. And the powers are generally a friend we can count on.

Maybe… the only friend I can count on.

But the pain doesn’t dissipate, it just escalates. I scream louder and the energy around me gets stronger, deadlier. It grows and explodes around me. The wooden floor bangs on the ceiling and the walls are cracked. I curl up feeling the coldness, the despair engulfing me once again.

Anger is stronger than grief. And anger is less agonizing than suffering.

“Make him suffer,” the thought crosses my mind, “make him suffer like he made you suffer.”

My brain goes “task mode” and all the internal screaming seems to cease for a moment. Like a robot focusing on its target. I stand and open my arms. The dark energy grows, explodes around me and I fly up to the sky at high speed.

My overalls become a black dress. It’s long, made of tule and ruffles that floats in the sky like soft waves. It’s sleeveless, but it covers up to my neck. At its bottom, it shimmers, like little stars.

It’s a shame that such a precious dress is being used for such a gruesome moment.

I fly to his house, carried by pure anger. Revenge. I break into his house, destroying his living room wall.

I stand there next to the hole I made, staring at him with pure anger. He was sitting on the couch next to his girlfriend, hugging her. He stares at me, wide-eyed and shaking. Like a coward. Jessica screams and runs away.

Smart girl, she wasn’t my target.

I come in and extend my arm to his direction, shooting a dark energy blast on him. He flies to the floor with a shriek. I smirk.

I saunter to him. He tries to scramble away, but I step on his back, forcing him to stop.

He stares at me as if he is about to cry. But I don’t care.

“P-please, don’t hurt me,” tears stream through his eyes.

I aim my hand at him, releasing the dark energy over him. He starts screaming and begging for me to stop. But I can’t, because I can’t stand my pain anymore; I just want it to go. I curl my fingers, intensifying his pain, feeling the energy imploding his nervous system. Feeling each of his organs spasming and contracting.

My pain numbed for a moment. Just like morphine. And morphine can be addicting.

He struggles his way out, one step from fleeing away. I’m not going to let this happen, not when I’m almost cured. I throw myself over him, pinning him to the floor. I squish his wrists, focusing the dark energy there. I can feel his blood overheating and boiling.

Rage fuels me. I stare at him with bloodthirst.

“This is for what you did to me,” I hiss.

In a swift move, I grab his neck and choke him, focusing the energy on his throat. He gags, unable to fight anymore. He tries to push my arm away, but he doesn’t have the strength.

“P-please…,” his voice sounds hoarse, almost fading.

I feel his jugular one step from bursting. This… will kill him. Killing is wrong, it’s evil. But what he did to me also was, and he did it anyways. He killed me too, what’s the difference?

His jugular bursts as he passes out by suffocation. I can feel the wetness around my hands I let his neck go and look at my hand. Scarlet blood. He doesn’t move anymore, no screams, or fighting.

He’s dead.

His eyes are still open with a petrified look. His pale neck drips hot blood to his clothes and down to the floor.

What… what did I do?

The pain returns. And it returns ten times worse.

I’m once again breathless. Tears are back, but I’m so distraught I can’t make sounds. I put my clean hand over my mouth unable to take my eyes over his dead body.

I killed him. I killed him. I killed my best friend, the love of my life.

Why did I do this?

I scream, looking at my dirty hand. I’m a killer. Nothing changed; the pain continues. The misery, panic, despair.

I cradle his dead body into my arms, hoping it will somehow wake him. Like a spear piercing through my lungs, or swallowing needles. Sharp and unbearable.

I just wanted him to love me, to accept me the way I am. To be with me. I didn’t think I would go this far.

And this time, the energy doesn’t comfort me. I just feel the coldness and loneliness from before. My heart is broken in so many ways, and the cracks are not fixable.