Abby.

I slam Simone's front door shut, the force of it vibrating through my chest.

My hands shake as I throw my sweater over my head. Simone’s voice still echoes in my head, loud and raw, like she’s saying those words right into my ear.

“Just leave!”

With charged energy, I walk down her porch, the road blurring in front of me. I can feel the heaviness of her words settling into my bones.

This is so wrong.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The plan—my plan—should’ve worked. When Zack walked in and found us like that, Simone wasn’t supposed to run after him or try to beg for his mercy. She was supposed to see the truth. She should’ve realized that Zack’s nothing but a trap keeping her from being free.

I thought I was saving her.

But she doesn't see it.

When I reach the door, I can hear muffled sounds of the TV coming from the other side. I can’t help the deep void that sits in me. I’m torn between anger and hurt, and I don’t think I’m ready to face Beth right now.

She’ll obviously say I was wrong to try and save Simone. But what was I supposed to do?

When I push open the door, I suck in a breath, bracing myself for Beth's judgment. To my relief, there’s no one in the living room.

I sigh, looking at how lifeless this place seems—exactly how I feel. I turn off the TV, the silence hitting me so hard I wish I hadn’t removed the noise.

I don’t bother turning on the lights in the hallway as I kick off my shoes and head straight to my room, desperate to make it there unnoticed. My body aches with every step I take.

I collapse onto the bed, reaching blindly for my sketchbook on the bedside drawer.

I need something, anything, to focus on besides the fact that Simone doesn’t want me. She said it out loud—she doesn't want to ever see me again.

I push a hand through my hair, hoping it will take away the frustration and steady my racing heart.

I don’t get it. Where did I go wrong?

Everything seemed so clear when I spoke to Beth about it—I’d help Simone get out of this vicious, toxic cycle she’s in with her good-for-nothing husband. I would get her to see that Zack isn't worth her love, her tears, or her pain.

But now I’m lying powerless in my bed with nothing but silence and the burning hurt in my chest.

What did I miss?

Without meaning to, my hand rushes through my hair again, subconsciously yanking at the strands as if pulling hard enough will somehow make it all make sense.

I did everything I thought was right.

I gave Simone a way out, gave her the chance to be free, and for what? For Simone to turn around and throw it all back in my face?

Why? Why the hell can’t she see that I’m just trying to help her?

My chest feels tight, and I can’t stop the spiraling thoughts.

What more could I have done?

I’m so fucking tired. I’m tired of being patient, I’m tired of being understanding. I’m tired of hurting myself because of her.

Nothing will ever be enough for Simone. No matter how many compromises I make, or how much of myself I give her, Simone will always choose him.

She’ll always run back to Zack, like he’s some twisted magnet that keeps pulling her in, no matter how much damage it does.

The never-ending anger swells inside me again, stronger this time. I grab the nearest thing on the dresser—a candle—and I’m so close to throwing it across the room when I remember: I’m not alone. My kids and sister are sleeping, and they don’t have to suffer because of me.

And despite the amount of shit I’d like to break, nothing will change tonight. Simone will still choose that fucker over me.

My leg bounces as my hand scribbles something on my notepad. I don’t know what, but this feels like it’s going to help calm me down.

My head replays everything, and it still doesn’t make sense.

One would think that since Simone is constantly complaining about how miserable she is with Zack, how she doesn’t know how to leave, she would jump at the nearest opportunity to do so. Yet when I paved that chance for her, she rejected me with the disgust and resentment I’ve never seen in her eyes.

She chose her toxic marriage. She chose him.

Why the hell can’t she just let go? How hard is it to let go of someone who never misses a fucking chance to hurt you?

Maybe I’m failing to understand because I’ve never been married before, but this is not rocket science. It’s as simple as putting two and two together: you’re not happy? Fucking leave!

My eyes snap to my notepad. Simone’s face takes shape on the page. The curve of her jaw, her intense, unreadable eyes—those beautiful eyes.

But tonight, I’m not having it. So, I add two small horns above her head, a cruel smirk tugging at my lips. It’s childish, but it’s the perfect touch because that’s what she is, isn’t she?

A demon in disguise. A beautiful, broken one who led me on and, in the end, just ditched me like I didn’t mean a thing to her. Maybe I don’t. Maybe it’s all been in my head: the connection, the chemistry—all of it was just an illusion to keep myself entertained?

No, fuck that, I never imagined it. It was—is—real, and we both know that.

I stare at the drawing, the frustration from earlier still boiling under my skin, but Simone’s evil drawing makes it easier to bottle up.

I don’t think I will ever understand what she truly wants from me. One minute, she’s pulling me in, kissing me like I’m the only thing that matters. The next, she’s pushing me away to run back to Zack.

It’s clear now—she’s addicted to the mess. She’s ungrateful, that’s what she is. She doesn’t see what I’m trying to do for her. Doesn’t understand that I’m the one who really cares.

She’s too damaged to realize that she’s killing herself.

Or maybe she’s in love with the chaos. That’s the sick part, isn’t it? She’s in love with the constant push and pull, the drama, the guilt. It’s like she can’t function without it, like it’s the only thing that makes her feel alive.

I press the pencil harder against the paper, darkening the lines around her eyes until they’re nothing but shadows.

Why did I think I could help her?

The question lingers in my head along with all the others that are still unanswered.

Simone doesn’t want to be saved. She wants to keep playing this game, over and over, until there’s nothing left of either of us.

I toss the sketchbook across the room, watching it crash to the floor with a satisfying thud.

I hate this.

I hate her for making me feel like this, and I hate myself for letting her. I promised myself I wouldn’t get sucked back in. I told myself I wouldn’t be her backup plan, her safety net. But here I am, still waiting for her to choose me, knowing well enough she never will.

I pull my knees to my chest, curling. The pain in my chest won’t go away, no matter how hard I try to push it down.

I can’t keep waiting for Simone to see what’s right in front of her.

I’m done being the one who has to pick up the pieces.

I pull the blanket over my head, shutting out the world, shutting her out.

I need to stop caring. Simone will never change. She’ll never leave Zack. She’ll never be the person I need her to be.

And I refuse to lose myself trying to make her something she’s not.

+++

😑😑