by Haley Jenner
I didn’t want to get mad. I didn’t want to yell, but hearing the hope, the determination in her tone just pisses me off. Why won’t she just go? Can’t she see her hope, her determination is useless here? That I’m hopeless?
“I refuse to give up on what we have, Archer. I love you,” she finishes on a whisper.
I rub my hands over my shorn hair, closing my eyes in frustration. It brushes roughly against my hands and I shake my head. Belle always liked my hair longer, so I cut it, how fuckin’ stupid is that? Like she’s gonna finally leave because I refuse to cut my stupid hair.
“Annabelle, why are you still here?” I sigh, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jeans.
Confusion crosses her beautiful face as she considers my question. “I live here, Archer.”
“Why won’t you just fucking leave?” I stress. “It’s done, Annabelle. We’re done. Why do you keep fucking torturing us both?” My words finish on a loud angry shout and she flinches at the sound.
“You think if I live down the street it’s gonna be any easier, Arch. What? I’m just going to walk past you in the street and act like I don’t know you?” she laughs sarcastically.
“I mean Carnation, Annabelle. Why won’t you leave Carnation?” I clarify quietly, afraid if I speak any louder she’ll read the regret in my words.
Her entire body recoils at my tortured question. “This is my home. This is all I’ve ever known.” She’s confounded, shocked at my suggestion. Her eyes challenge my unmoving frame, looking for anything that will allow her to doubt my words. “You fucking go,” she cries around a small stuttered breath, when she doesn’t see what she’d hoped for.
My eyes close in irritation as I shake my head. “I don’t need anything more out of life. Belle, go, live your life. See the world, get married, have kids. I don’t fucking care. Just don’t do it here,” I gesture around us and it takes all I have to keep my tone bored, uncaring as I say the words that burn a gaping hole into my soul. We were supposed to do those things together. We talked about it often, planned our perfect life. Belle was going to be my wife, belly round when she carried my babies. Once upon a time anyway. Her mouth opens on a cry and she looks like I’ve hit her, like my words have physically harmed her. This is what I needed. Her to hate me; realize I’m not what she needs.
“What? You think we were still gonna live that life? Get married? Have babies?” I bark out a sarcastic laugh.
She lifts one hand to her mouth, blocking her cries while holding her other hand out to silence me, silently asking me to stop. I don’t stop though. I’m an asshole and I need her to accept my words, so I continue, my heart bleeding into my body as I do. “Don’t make me break your heart, Belle. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you. I’m so fucking sorry,” I breathe deeply around the suffocating level of emotion drowning me. “Please don’t make me do it anymore. Don’t make me break you to get you to leave,” I plead.
“Break my heart?” she laughs as tears fall across her cheeks. “Oh, Arch, you’ve already done that.”
“No, baby. I haven’t,” I shake my head on a sad smile. “If I had, you wouldn’t be here.”
She half falls, half sits on the edge of the sofa, as though her body can no longer hold her up. She breathes deeply, attempting to process my words and I watch her. I give myself that. I let myself commit every detail of her to my memory. It’s already there, every minor detail about her ingrained into my soul, but I take in more of what I can; hating myself for needing this to be the last time I see her. I take in the way she ties her hair, messily on top of her head, the elastic of the band barely containing the thickness of it all. I follow the line of her arched eyebrows, framing her big brown eyes. Eyes that used to be bright and happy, but are now dull with a sadness that burns a hole in my heart. I memorize the shape of those fucking lips. The perfect pink pout wet with tears, bruised from her teeth.
Finally, her eyes lift to meet mine and I know I need to leave. I can’t be near her. Her sadness is consuming me and my need to comfort her, to protect her is fighting to break through. Holding her eyes for a few seconds, my insides screaming I love you, I grab my bag and turn to leave.
I can’t come back to this house. Not ever. I can’t stay in a place that held so much promise of a better life. A place that suffocates me with happy memories. I feel claustrophobic every time I step foot inside. Weighted down on every angle by how our life was supposed to play out.
My duffle is light. I packed only the bare minimum. Most of my shit reminds me of Belle. Clothes she bought, or shirts of mine she’s worn to bed. I can’t take that shit. I can’t deal with those reminders anymore. This is enough, I’ve survived with less.
Her voice is panicked as it reaches me ears. “No, Archer, please no. Don’t leave me. Please. Don’t leave me,” she tugs on my shirt, attempting to pull me back. “You promised we’d be good. You promised. I need you. You’re everything to me. I love you. I love you,” her words come out in a rush as she begs through her tears.
Somehow she’s made her way in between me and my exit and her hands meet my chest, grasping at my shirt, moving upwards, stroking my neck, my face. Touching me, trying to make me feel her. If only she knew. If only she knew how much I want to touch her back. To let her know that feeling her would cause more pain. If only I could tell her I was sorry by touch. She’d get it then, but I can’t do it. I can’t show her how much I fucking love her. It’d make her fight harder and that can’t happen. I need to let her go; I need her to put me out of my misery. I need her to leave and show me I’m not worth the fight.
She touches her lips to mine, her tongue peeking out to taste my mouth. “Kiss me, Archer. Please. Kiss me,” she pleads desperately. I almost give in. The taste of her tongue against my lips working to snap the last shred of will I have left.
I keep my eyes closed, afraid to look at her. My throat works overtime as I will myself to swallow the emotion, to fight the shame, the grief. “You’re hysterical, Annabelle. It’s pathetic. Control yourself,” I snap, my eyes sealed shut, not wanting to witness the effect of my words.
I’m a coward. I don’t fucking care. My heart is as broken as hers right now, but this is what we need. My life has no place for her anymore. My life has no place for anything.
Fuck! I need a drink. I need to numb this shit. Shut these emotions down before I beg her to stay. To fix me.
I feel her pull away on a strangled sob, my words piercing the way I needed them to. I’m such a piece of shit. Belle doesn’t deserve this and one day she’ll see that I did it for her. She can’t live like this anymore, hoping for something that’s died. Waiting on someone who doesn’t exist anymore. I’m doing the right thing by her. I know I am. She’ll go and eventually she’ll find happiness again, somewhere far away from me.
I pull myself together enough to open my eyes and see the damage I’ve inflicted. Ass on the floor, her body leans against the wall for support. Her eyes watch me intently, now completely void of emotion. By will or not, I’m not sure, but they’re dead. Empty, much like my own. She doesn’t move as I walk from our home, only her lifeless eyes following as I jog down the porch steps towards my car.
I hear the moment she breaks though, and I feel as though I have been ripped in two. My feet stumble as her loud and uncontrolled sobs echo in my ears. Climbing into my car, I resign myself to the fact that this will be a new nightmare, a new evil that wakes me at night. The worst of them all. My Belle’s heart breaking. Me the cause.
I rip the top off the bottle of whisky in my car as I drive, the burn of the alcohol doing nothing to dull the pain. I was planning on drinking alone tonight, drinking myself into oblivion with no one’s company but my own. But I’m weak and being alone with my thoughts right now is a new kind of torture I’m not ready to endure.
I pull into the carpark of The Shallow in a rush, my wheels screeching as I throw the Jeep into park. A few shots later my anxiety has mellowed, the numbness I so desperately craved working its way in and
I’m grateful. Ma sees me at the bar, but like every other night refuses to make her way over. Not that I care, she won’t fucking serve me anyway. Our eyes meet for the briefest of moments before I can turn away and I hate what I see in them. The disappointment, the sadness. It hits me harder than usual. Normally I can shut it down, pretend it doesn’t burn, that it doesn’t help in eroding the slither of life my soul still clings to. Not tonight though. Tonight, her heartbreak magnifies the one settling deep inside my own body. For the split second our eyes connect, I consider approaching her. Offloading everything that unfolded with Belle. Let her engulf me in the warmth of her heart and try to make me feel better. About my decision, about the choices I’ve had to make. Or for her to ease just a portion of the pain I feel inside now that my life has lost its reason. Help me convince my heart that without Belle, there’s still a necessity to beat, to keep me breathing. But all of that is more than I deserve, more than I can ask of anybody. Because everything I want, everything I needed in life is no longer a possibility. So instead, I let Ma’s disappointment and sadness join mine. I allow it to manifest and accept that it’s what I wrote for myself. I’m weak and the pity, the malevolence of others just helps me in the knowledge that I did right by Belle. That she’s better off without me.
Bennett and Toby settle in beside me at some point into the night. They don’t scorn me with their pity like the rest of this town and I let myself appreciate that. They let me drown in my own self-loathing, back me when I need it and bail me out when it’s necessary. They’ve stopped sharing details about their lives. I’m not in a place to hear it and they seem to understand that. I’m an asshole, I know that, as do they, but they stick with me, fucked if I know why.
I stand alongside them as they talk, disengaged to everything around me. I exist. Bar sluts approach me most nights, like the one currently plastered to my side. I don’t encourage them, don’t touch them, but I don’t push them away either. I guess it makes me feel like the worthless piece of shit I am, letting them touch me, knowing Belle was at home waiting for me. Reinforces the fact that I don’t deserve her, that I never really did, that she should go; run far away from this place, but more importantly away from me.
It hits me like a freight train then and I stumble backwards. My conscious is a cunt and even through the booze thoughts of Belle beat me down. Comprehension that I’ll never see her again, that I’ll never hear her laugh, smell the perfume of her skin, touch her or slide inside of her, cuts off my airways and I stagger closer to the bar to hold myself upright. Fuck. I push heavily on my eyes to combat the sting.
Gesturing at the bartender, I order another shot as I swallow deeply from my beer. I feel a hand glide up my chest and my eyes meet blue. Bartie. I glare down at her and curse myself for ever touching her. For fucking her on the regular, once upon a fuck up. Her face is thick with makeup, clothing barely there. Everything about her is so fucking fake, completely overdone, from her eyelashes to her orgasms. I glance down to her hand then back to her heavily made up face, raising my eyebrows in question. “Forget the rest of these skanks, baby, you need something real. We used to be good together, Archer,” she pouts, making me grimace. Her voice pisses me off; it’s nasally, not deep and throaty. She pushes her tits out farther; exaggerating her pout in what I assume she thinks is a seductive grin. Belle was right; she does look like a blow-up Barbie. All plastic and manufactured beauty. Her words, mixed with Belle’s apt description has me barking out a laugh and fuck me, I can’t remember the last time I laughed.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Annabelle
The smell of stale booze and cigarette smoke assault my senses as my feet break through the door. A smell that now sadly reminds me of home. My eyes scan the crowded bar in search for Archer. My heart is beating erratically, my hands shaking in nervous anticipation of seeing the man who now admittedly wants to shatter my heart.
I start along the bar, knowing that if he’s here, he’ll be planted as close to his poison as possible, drowning his sorrows. Large blue eyes meet mine as Janie catches my eyes. "What are you doing here, baby girl?" she asks with eyes sympathetic, voice soft.
Anger pulses through my body. How dare she question me. I have every right to seek him out. How dare she look at me with such sadness, treat me with the tenderness of a child. I’m strong, not fragile. She, more than anyone else in this fucking cesspool knows the fight I’ve put forward. How, after every knockdown, I get up. I get up. Not him. Me. "He told me to leave."
She sighs loudly and while I can’t hear the dejected sound across the deafening sounds in The Shallow, her body moves visibly with the effort. "Protecting you the only way he knows how, Annabelle."
My feet stumble, my body staggering backwards with the force of her words, recoiling as though she’s slapped me. "Don't you dare defend him. Don’t put that on me, you can’t actually believe that, Janie?” I accuse, stepping closer to be heard. “What about when he doesn’t come home at night and I don’t know where he is, who he’s with. Is he protecting me then? What about when I have to bail him out of jail night after night? Is that his way of protecting me? Or what about when I tell him I love him and he looks at me as though I’m nothing but a stupid girl with a little crush. Tell me, Janie, is he protecting me then?” I challenge, my entire body shaking with the relentless attack of emotions.
She stares at me silently, heartbreak in her eyes. "He’s a fucking coward, Janie. I'm not stupid, I know it hurts him to see me broken, but fuck him if he thinks he can break my heart without any consequences. He wants me gone, I'm done fighting, but not until his own heart is as broken as mine." I push past her and make my way farther into the bar, my eyes scanning the space.
The soles of my chucks stick to the floor as I force my way between the people I used to count as friends. Some notice me, their conversations halting as their eyes follow my path. Bennett notices me first, he and Toby almost acting as a shield for Archer and the threat of the outside world. He does a double-take at my advance, eyes flashing with pity. I wish he’d save it, his pity. I don’t want it, I despise it. People feeling sorry for me makes me feel weak and I refuse to let them make me feel that way. I’m not weak. Not in the slightest. A little broken, or maybe a lot. But not weak. Not fragile and most definitely not deserving of their pity.
I move past Bennett’s distressed stare as my eyes settle on the face of a man who whether he wants to or not, owns my heart completely. My heart spasms with an aching pain, when I see the manicured hand of Bartie Edison resting on his chest. Bright white teeth smiling at him, oozing sex.
Bartie FUCKING Edison!
I watch on in horror as Archer barks out a loud laugh, his head thrown back at something she’s said. A drunken grin decorates his beautiful face and if I wasn’t blinded my anger, by my own insecurities, by the unprecedented pain constricting my heart, I would’ve noticed the animosity, the disgust in his expression. But I am and I don’t. My heart cracks further as jealously cuts off my ability to take a full breath. He hasn't smiled at me in months, but here in this moment, so shortly after breaking my heart, he stands, letting Bartie fucking Edison touch him while he laughs and smiles.
Motherfucker.
Bennett leans in, whispering in Archer's ear and I watch as the smile fades from his face and his eyes lift to meet mine. For the briefest of moments, I see sadness cloud his features, but his cold mask falls back into place immediately and I question whether I actually saw the vulnerability. He has the decency to untangle himself from blow up Barbie before he speaks and I glare at her triumphant grin before focusing back on Archer. "We've already said our goodbyes, Annabelle,” the gravel of his voice affected by the slur of his words.
I attempt to calm the erratic beat of my heart and the shake in my voice before I speak but it’s useless, it cracks immediately and I hate him more in that moment. “You’re a fucking coward, Archer. You have made the people in this town pity me for months, you’ve made me look weak to our friends, to our
family. You’ve humiliated me over and over again. You have treated me like nothing but an inconvenience, an insignificant in your life and I realize now that it’s because you’re weak. You. Not me. You. I was willing to stand by you, knowing that for now, I could love you enough for the both of us. That one day you would wake up and want to start living again. But it’s not…. it’s not enough for you”.
Tears sting my eyes as my voice breaks and my emotions struggle to stay in check. “You want me gone? Fine, I’m gone, but I can’t leave until it’s done. I won’t leave until you do what you promised. Break my heart, Archer. Fucking shatter it, so I can walk away from you and never want to come back,” his eyes close tightly at my declaration, at my plea, his nostrils flaring as he works to pull air into his lungs. “Tell me it was all a lie. Tell me I stupidly gave you my heart and you never really wanted it, fuck your skank in front of me for all I care,” I gesture towards Bartie, feeling bile rush my throat at the thought. “I don’t care, Archer. Do it. Whatever it takes to see the love I have for you die in my eyes,” I beg and his eyes bore into mine, pleading for me to walk away, refusing to give me what I want. What I need. “JUST FUCKING DO IT,” I scream and his body flinches at the desperation in my yell.
Tears stream down my face and Archer’s chest rises and falls in deep breaths, his eyes, wet with unshed tears, refuse to meet mine, choosing to rest above my head instead. My palms meet his chest in a hard shove, his body not moving, my muscle nothing to his sheer size and strength. I keep at it though, palms and fists, pushing and hitting at him. “FUCKING DO IT, YOU ASSHOLE. BREAK MY HEART, YOU PIECE OF SHIT.” I choke back a sob. “I HATE YOU. I fucking hate you,” I stutter, my fists meeting his chest on one final shove before they stop, resting on his heaving body. “I love you,” I whisper, my head tilting to finally bring him into focus.
