Always the Same

Content Warning:

This story contains themes of mental struggles and substance abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

"You let me go or I swear--"

"You swear what?" His voice was calm and unbothered by the pounding of rain against the siding and the clash of thunder far above us.

"LET ME GO!" I screamed, trying with pathetic effort to break free of his grip.

"I can't, and if I could, I wouldn't."

"You're helping nothing," I panted, resorting to pulling at his locked fingers around my wrist.

"Andrea, look at me." He grabbed my other hand, to my despair and slight frustration.

I reluctantly obeyed, his stare holding me tighter than his firm hand that was starting to block blood flow to my fingers. He noticed and loosened his grip.

"What?" I asked, annoyance ringing in my voice with a touch of panic hidden in it. We stared at each other for another moment, his gaze composed and tranquil, and without looking in a mirror I knew my eyes were bloodshot from staying up all night. I pulled out of his gaze and caught myself studying the window. You could faintly see the raindrops slowly dripping down, even through the sheer curtain        

He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by one of the loudest clashes of thunder I’ve ever heard. I screamed and fell to the ground. No, someone was holding me. Right. He’s here. But why’s he holding my wrists? Well, it stopped me from falling. That’s why he’s holding my wrists. He thinks he’s helping something. BANG!

Another crack of thunder split the air. I would have fallen if he wasn't holding me. He guided me to the bed, forcing me down on it. My heart pounded, matching the rhythm of the rain.

“It’s okay. It’s just thunder.” His words angered me and brought to my attention another reason why he was aggressively holding onto my wrists. Because I had the very strong urge to punch his dumbass face right now.

“It’s more than just thunder!” I shouted, panic edging into my voice.

“Andrea, just talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong,” he pleaded.

No, I told myself. Don’t give in. His concerned puppy eyes stared right into my all-nighter, dry, red eyes.

“You want to know what’s wrong?” My voice quavered, sounding breathless. “You’re here. You’re trying to tell me I’m okay like those are the words that can fix the world. You think you’re the only thing stopping me from fainting or dying or something and apparently you haven’t heard me tell you to leave me the hell alone half a million times!” And BANG, more thunder just as I finished. I felt stupid as his hands prevented me from falling back against headboard. “God!” I exclaimed.

“Well, you know why I haven’t left you alone?” I glared at him even harder as he continued. “Because all I want is you to be able to talk to me. You keep everything inside and I have no idea what you’re thinking. It drives me crazy! You say you hate me and you kiss me; you say you love me then tell me to leave. What do you want?”

I wasn’t giving in. “I want you to go!”

“You keep saying that, I don’t believe you.”

“What does it take with you?!” I screamed to be heard over the pounding rain.

“Fine! Okay? Fine, I’ll leave. But I’m not answering when you call me begging to come back. I’m done.” With that, he finally let go of my wrist and left the room faster than I could process what he just said. I felt panic rising higher in my chest. I gripped the bedding, hard. It felt like I was falling. I couldn’t breathe. Everything in me was screaming yet I was silent. The rain got louder. The lightning got brighter. I kept telling myself I was okay, whispering it to the open air. My mind ignored the words and my heartbeat quicker. It came to my attention that the loud, ringing was in my head, not caused by the storm. It got louder and louder until I let go of whatever I was holding on to and fell backwards, giving in to the feeling that I was quickly falling backwards. My head bashed against the headboard, hard.

“Fucking hell,” I whispered as I took in my surroundings and the memories from last night flooded my mind. Tears I hadn’t realized I cried were dried on my face. The bedding was still crumbled from where I gripped onto it. And Brian’s phone was on the nightstand where he left it.

I realized what had woken me up; someone was repeatedly knocking on the door. I got up, holding on to my pounding head. I didn’t bother to fix my hair or clothes before answering. That was a lost cause, and I already knew who it was.

“I’m only here for one thing,” he said as soon as I opened the door. He came in, got his phone, and turned to leave. As he was about to step into the hallway, I grabbed his arm before it was too late. He turned to face me, clearly not in the mood.

“I’m sorry.” It sounded less sincere than it felt.

“I told you; I’m done. I don’t care what you say.” He went to leave again.

“I’m sorry!” I didn’t mean to yell it. It just came out that way.

“And I don’t care! I'm done!” He matched my tone easily.

“I know! I just want to say I’m sorry." I sighed for effect. "I really am.”

“No, you’re not. You’re never sorry. You never loved me. All you do is lie, just to make things easier. To get what you want. And I’m sick of it! I’m sick of you and I’m sick of playing your games!” With that, he finally left and the door slammed shut behind him. I knew it would happen. It always happens; everything’s always the same. And honestly, I’m sick of it too. He’s right, I always lie. Thinking it will help me or improve my life somehow. So, the one time I say the truth, nobody believes me.

I went to the bathroom and immediately regretted it. My eyes were just as, maybe more, bloodshot than I expected and yesterday’s makeup was smeared over my face. I let out a long sigh as I stared at myself. I fucked up. Again. It’s a continuing cycle; I draw someone’s attention. I confuse them and give them mixed signals. We fight. I cry and stare at dried tears and disgusting makeup. I drown out my mind and feelings with whiskey, ending up somewhere I shouldn't be. And it happens again.

Something felt different, though. I didn’t want whiskey. I wanted him. Finally, I feel like I love somebody and he hates me. I reached under the sink for a bottle and a glass, filling the latter to the top before heading back to my bed. Nothing's ever going to change.