Jar of Hearts

A broken heart, moving on.

“Marianne, c’mon baby” I heard his deep heartbreaking voice through the cold telephone. He wasn’t fooling me. I knew this game to well to fall in love with him again. Yes, again. I was once in love with Jackson. But it was only recently I learned that he was never in love with me.  My daddy has money. Everyone knows it. And before this incident, I thought Jackson was looking past the money.  All those nights in the back of his old pickup; He told me he loved me.  So many times.  And I didn’t hesitate to respond with the same worn phrase.   “Babe, can you not give me, Jackson Harris, another chance?” He thinks he is really something.  I know for a fact he has stolen money from other rich girls like me.  Kandy Williams, Hannah Bartell, Jay Gillman. He is nothing but a cold-hearted player, and I should have known that when he asked me to that stupid dance with him. I was thinking at first maybe it was going to be just friends going, until he pulled me back into his pickup when I got out in the parking lot. That is a lot to take in for a 17 year old. So I went with it. I fell for him. I killed my reputation, and I plain just lost hope of everything I had been looking forward to my senior year. For him. Jackson Harris. Kiss City’s high school jock. 

As soon as I got the bill for my debit card I fell out of love.  It was the worst feeling I had ever experienced.  I didn’t ease into any feelings. It hit me. Everything hit me. I felt used, empty, cold, alone, humiliated, and unwanted. All at once. But I am not going to let that show now.  He has misused my love, and love in general.  Love will never mean as much to me as it could have. Thanks to everyone’s dream guy, Jackson Harris.  He knows I am aware of the missing money, and he knows I am aware of who threw it away. “Do you not want me, Marianne?” My reaction to this was robotic.  “I love you” he spat it out of his mouth like it was nothing.  This ravaged expression sent a shock wave from my brain to the tips of my fingers, and I clenched the telephone.  It sent a counterfeit signal of love to my heart, numbness to my tongue and a tear to my eye.  I had given him too much time to think already. My lips barely opened and my words were a different sound “Who do you think you are?” and I hung up.

Author's Note

This is for a contest. I was supposed to write a story to the song Jar of Hearts. But any advice, or suggestions? Thanks!

Reviews

[Kristopher d. Taylor]

its cold, I like it, its like a peek into a frozen moment in time. A moment not judged by actions, but instead by emotions. We tend to see time as what we were doing when, instead of what we're feeling. This certainly has aspects of both, its like feeling an image, or watching a line of text, if that makes sense.

[RachelReaper]

I liked it a lot and the only suggestion I have is to break up your paragraphs a bit. Sometimes having big paragraphs makes people want to skim them and you don't want that to happen. But I like the story a lot, even though it is very sad. I think this could be extended over a longer story.