A Story in Pieces

Beauty may only be skin deep, but love is as deep as your pockets.

Chapter 1: Day 2-4

Because I am now coherent. All there is to know about day 1 is no heeded words, hair and a hotel.

Words can change your life. "I do", "I wish", "I swear". I do take this man to be my lawful wedded husband. I wish my marriage works out. I swear, your Honor, to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me God.

I remember there being hair everywhere. My hair, clumps of it. Some stuck to a chair, some just rolled into the corners of the room, and stuck to my shoes. Stuck, caught, jarred...

It was jarring to be palmed in the side of the head. His arm with hand reared back and swung. The ringing is memorable. I am not sure I will forget, most certainly because it was not the first time, your Honor.

If two, then by sea.

Once two, now one.

Old woman and the sea.

Goodbye. Goodbye to your stare, your touch, your presence. Hello. Hello to your memory ever replaying in my head.

I have to leave you. I am moving forward without you. Why don't you love me more? More than your thirst for all, but mostly the turbulent.

We are both turbulent personalities. Your addiction to failure, and my addiction to rejection. One is stupid and one is insecure, or are we the same? Two sides of the same coin.

We started as soul mates and ended as placeholders. It's hard to imagine his touch. I used to smell him everywhere, in every thing. Now I will try for hours to remember, but nothing.

We really loved each other, right? Was it love? It must have been love or I doubt I'd be questioning it.

"For two years!" he kept saying over and over. For two years he had been planning to leave with half my earnings. What a cold yet honest announcement. He wasn't lying. Or at least about his intentions. The timeline is probably the lie. It all started when I put him in a Florida jail. I put him there because the police officer said it wouldn't stop. She was right but it took a few or several more times to convince me.

I forgot to block him on social media, too. I can't respond. I want to. I want to go back in time. But how far would I have to go back? I year, 2 years, 5 years, or 10 years? 10 would be nice. Before I knew his other sides.

He knows. He always knew. I was easy to conquer. I kept my distance for years. Knowing if I got too close our time would start. When does it end? 10 years?

It never ends. I know it deep down. I can't respond knowing what I know. I wish I knew reincarnation was real. I could pass from this life knowing we could have a second chance.

In the beginning he would sing me to sleep, and I thought "Wow, if this isn't true love, what is?". He would announce we were about to make love. He was possessive over my body. No one could touch me. It's all so different now. I got thicker as his attraction ran thin. Opposites also don't attract. Lesson learned.

Fuck him. Twisting things up, running from being content. Always raging against the still or quiet. No depth.

Bi-polar.

On our first date we spoke about having kids. At the bar, him to my left, extremely drunk and speaking about kids oh so casually. 10 years, 4 miscarriages, and still talking about kids on our last day. The last day before day 1. The first of many days without you.

We will live forever together. In this notebook I'll keep you with me. I've caught you now, now with my pen. I can make you, me, us into any version. No version would be more dramatic than the truth. "The truth will set you free!" said by someone, recanted by my father. Your Honor, I solemnly swear I am up to no good...

"I tried my best to move along with you, but you had a problem with follow through." -Belmont

Boredom.

"Don't tell me what to do!" -Mother Fucking Carrington Mitchell

God. Who knows it could all work out. Jumping out of my skin at the thought. Something else being out there. Is it too early to ask for the check? No new friends. Someone else will always be too soon. They will never be you. I am sick of me.

"In the arms of an angel." said the Devil. I held you until the ambulance came. Your gargled breath waking me, leading me to the kitchen.

Waiting, following, then arriving at the hospital only to have you yell at me for calling the ambulance. But it wasn't you speaking, it was the Devil. He ensnared you, and I caught up in his scheme along with you. The male nurse playing psychologist. Telling you to make a change, even if it's me. That will haunt me forever. His eyes catching mine mid-sentence. I knew it then, that he knew, you could never be happy in my shadow. You were the one fucking up, yet I felt guilty. I am guilty of forever not being enough. Your brain is broken, you discovered. And even with you removing responsibility I resented you still. You can control your arm. You tell it to pick up that can, but you're broken and therefore can not put it down. A blatant contradiction in nature. Your nature is broken. You broke it. Along with my heart.

David Carrington Mitchell

Whitney Meghan Cambron

T- 3 L- 2

R- 3 O- 2

U- 0 V- 1

E- 3 E- 3

98%

High chance of success! Lies. It has always been a game. This relationship. Something for you to win at. You won my heart, and I lost my soul.

Hello, Love. Are you there? It's me, your soul mate. You promised to cherish. What once was is now dull. Blunt, but manages to cut deep. I'm bleeding out. Catch it all. Keep it secret and safe. Now let us pass with hope.

December to May. No contact allowed. What is he doing? What is he thinking? Is he thinking of me?

What will our loves look like in another 10 years? I am not sure I'll ever stop dreaming of you and I. It's like you're here. Behind a translucent wall. Pacing back and forth, screaming trying to get my attention. That's the absurd part. All the pacing, screaming when my attention has and will always be on you.

Like I said my darling I'll keep you alive in here. As you start to disappear around me I can resurrect you with my pen. I'll dress you up and place us in a downtown bar, 9 years back. We caught all the looks; whispers bouncing off the wall of our forbidden pairing. We were a walking time bomb. They watched the seconds counting down, in awe of our beautiful war. Who would surrender first? They say I did. But we both know you did years ago. Bidding your time in silence, awaiting our doom.

Words are powerful. We throw them around so carelessly. One word, a name: Cary. Two words, a command: Get out. Three words, a curse: I love you. It is a curse. It brings me despair. Loneliness. When I'm with you I am alone.

What if I were to remedy my loneliness with the warmth of another, would he know? That you still live here, in me, forever. Knowing nothing between us would remain secret because you know everything. The comings and goings of me.

I am going to go. Going to meet up with a friend today. We are similar in our ailment. Lonely for the one that couldn't stay. Is this where contentment blooms on common ground. To be content sounds cold. You gave up on true love and as it's embodiment cools, contentment is formed. Passion runs hot and can burn, love. But the burn brands me as yours. Just a little pain for a lifetime of belonging. Each branded, connected by love for all eternity.

I told him. Not vocally but through social. Soon even that will be off limits, limitations I signed off on. Only by way of imagination will we speak. Making contact at all hours, any day I wish. What will you say then?

"You're better off dead." he whispers. He always knew me, and whatever is playing through in my head. He knew, as he knows now I think of death. I could simply remove myself. Take the pawn off the board. The waves made by my move moves me further from you. Let my presence be, as so closer to you.

I hope you continue to write songs for us. Your lyrics inked on my legs, as to give movement to them. "You went through hell for me, now I'll do the same for you.". "Went" implies I passed through hell but I never made it out. I cried for you to rescue me. You promised after all. So many promises and yet here I am. Waiting for all eternity on your fulfillment of a promise. A vow.

I'll tell myself you're in rehab. We are very familiar with time spent apart. I'll dream when you get home you'll hold me tightly and quietly, listening to our heartbeats. That every thing will be different. Different came true. A horrible place to be, at the closure. I am starring at its doorframe but I can't move my feet. I'm stuck, just like the hair.

Authored by Whitney Mitchell