Forever and Always

Don't say "forever", if you don't understand the true definition.

She became one of my obsessions in less than a week. The second I saw her, nothing else was important, there wasn't anything that mattered. I lean back against the tree in her backyard and gaze up in her bedroom window. The air is cool and damp tonight against my exposed flesh. A smirk rolls upon my face as I watch her stroll into her room. I've been doing this for a while now, no matter how hard I try, and I can't stop.

Every night before I leave to go see her, I do all I can to put my car keys down and walk back inside. Fragile objects around my house take the abuse from all the times I lose control. I've had to replace 20 vases, 5 mirrors, and an endless amount of dining ware. Ever since she left me, I can't function. Our breakup was so tragic; I stayed in bed and stared at photos of us together. I signed into all of her online accounts, just to make sure she wasn’t moving on. I like the fact that she hasn’t changed one single password. I needed the break and space she gave us; I had so much planning of our wedding to tend to. She was the reason why I wasn't dead, the only purpose I had. She had power that no one contained. I'm still here because I want her, and she wants me, we want each other.

This time around, I'll uninstall one of the 5 locks I have on my bedroom door, just in case she tries to leave. She never liked being confined; I tried explaining that it was my way of expressing love. Her eyes always grew full with a sort of terror, something unexplainable, it made my heart hurt. Not because she was afraid, but because she could've escape any second.

Her parents, my future in-laws, come out the backdoor at the same time every night; they leave to attend a club they're in. My clothes are all black; I blend in with the night so greatly. The hard, cold ground is beneath my body as I lie down, trying to dodge the headlights as they back out of their driveway. I wait until they're gone to get up and walk to the door. I slide the key I got copied awhile back into keyhole and unlock it then go in.


I walk silently around her house, and then sit on the couch. I'm sitting in the same place at the time she decided to end our relationship. Noises from upstairs catch my attention; I get up and walk to the stairs. I hear her voice as I approach the top stair, she's talking to someone. The urge to scream flows through me, I don't do it though, and it’d defeat the purpose of sneaking in. My arm rubs against the railing as I climb up the steps; I jump a little because of the pain.

Last night I gave myself a tattoo of her name, I think it looks good, I'm sure she will too. She's always liked my handwriting, I hate it though, most people say it’s similar to a 5 year olds writing.

My jealous tendencies used to annoy her a lot; she always let me know that. She couldn't talk to anyone, even her family, without me hating them. They didn't know my aversion towards them; they didn't see it in my eyes, my tone, and my movements. Every word she exchanged with someone, my body vibrated with anger. Once, I got so mad that I bit through my bottom lip; she drove me to the hospital crying the whole time. Later that day she swore to me she would only talk to people for less than 10 minutes when I was around her. I tried to keep my attitude contained, only for her; she needed me to hold back, so I did.

I stand outside her door and listen to her talk. She says "I love you too, babe." to the person she's on the phone with, and then hangs up. Tears well up in my eyes, I feel my lip quiver. If I was home right now, I'd be planning to replace another vase, and probably two other mirrors. My throat tightens and I cannot breathe, I stand against the wall for support. When I start thinking about her, my emotions and body calm down.

She's always my first choice when I need to relax, she always will be. In my room at home, I have photos of her on every inch of my walls. It's where I go to become placid; it's where I go for everything positive, like planning our future. She told me that she didn't like seeing herself in pictures, so I took some down, not all of them. Even though she told me she didn't like it, I knew she did deep inside, I felt it.

I kneel down and look into her door's keyhole; she stands in front of her closet going through her wardrobe. Her phone rings, the ringtone is a song a dedicated to her, it was ours, and it still is. She answers it and talks to the person in a way that only I should get. Her laugh makes me smile again, I enjoy seeing her happy. I stand up and open the door, watching her as she’s still facing toward the closet, and she doesn't even notice me. I go up behind her and stay there; my hand lightly takes her phone away and ends the call. Hurting her will hurt me, i don't want to hurt her, and I can't do that again.

I didn't want to; it was something I couldn’t control. It was one punch she left me over. Telling her over and over that I was sorry wasn't enough. Ever since then, apologies always make me cringe.

My arms wrap around her and pull in close, her trembling dawns. "You remember my favorite outfit on you, right, baby? You look so good in it, Wear it for me..." I find her shaky hands and lock them in mine. "Please." I say.
"Wh-what are you doing here, Jamie?"
"You haven't returned my calls, or even texted back once."
"Jamie...I've been so busy, I was just about to...” She turns around and looks in my eyes. "Don’t be mad...”

Only she noticed the way my eyes changed shade when I was angry or jealous. That was one of the things I liked most about her, she always could tell when everyone couldn't. She was different, she will be forever. She's my rare gem, a diamond amoung average, everyday rocks and pebbles. She's something everyone wants, something they need.

"Who were you talking to?" I demand.
"My friend, I promise." She looks away from my eyes, she's lying.
"You know I don't believe in promises. Everyone knows that."
She asks "How'd you get in here..?"
"I'm better, babe...I'm getting better."
"We've talked about this Jamie. So many times, too many times."
"Okay." All I do is stare at the ground. She's still shaking, I hate making her scared of me, I don't do it on purpose. My fingers feel against and through her hair, she used to love me doing that.

I have strands of it at home under my bed in a box. I take it out every night and think about her, if she knew, she wouldn't accept it.

"You have to leave now, Jamie." she mumbles, her voice full of distress.
"We're still together. You said, forever and always, we both said that."
"Things change..."

Her phone rings and she goes to reach for it. I pick it up before she does, I look at the name of the person calling, and don't recognize it. When i answer, I don't speak; I listen to what they sound like the hang up and get their number. They'll be getting a call from me later tonight. "Don't do this." She says.
"I'm trying to protect you..."
"Nothing's hurting me, Jamie. They aren't hurting me. You are.” she retorts.
Her words cut through me like I'm under a guillotine. "What can I do to make that better...what can I do to help our relationship get stronger."
"Leave."

The ringing of her phone starts again; I pick it up throw it against the floor, the screen shatters. As I bend down to pick it up, a few of the shards cut me, blood begins to protrude. Her eyes are watery; I've seen them that way many of times. She suddenly runs toward her door, I drop the phone on the ground and go after her; I'm leaving tracks of bright red droplets behind me. I grab her wrist and catch her before she gets out; everything I touch gets stained. I shut and lock the door, and tell her to lie on her bed, she listens. I look down at my hands; I'll probably need stitches, but that doesn't bother me right now. I go over and hold her close, I watch her tears fall, and I feel her body shake. I wipe her tears away leaving smears of blood. "You're mine, right, baby?"
She hesitates and stutters through her weeping, “Yes."
"Forever and always."

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[Marie]

THis is a chilling story...love gone wrong. Only it isn't love, it's obsession; even he knows that...