It Begins at the End Contest Winner - frostychicken

. . .

He was packing his bags.

And there was nothing I could do to stop him. I was immobile, clenching my teeth to prevent the trembling from turning into chattering. I saw his back muscles coil and uncoil as he shoved his belongings into the small duffle bag, and unintentionally, I let a small whimper escape. He didn't care about how his stuff got into the bag, all he cared about was getting the thing zipped shut.

I stood by the doorway of our bedroom, afraid of going inside. Of running my fingers down his back. Afraid of speaking to him. I had messed up.

It was raining outside; the thunder growling was a physical manifestation of his anger. Our room was a mess— his stuff thrown everywhere. The only light in the room was the illumination of the lamps on the bedside tables and shelf.

What an oxymoron, the lights were. They gave our room a homey feeling, but the storm outside was the reality of the situation. I needed to fix the situation. I was not a cheater. I was not a cheater. I was not my mom.

"Bren?" I meekly whispered, my hands clutching the sleeves of my worn-out sweater. I was wearing the oversized, army green wooly sweater he bought for me. It was his favorite.

"Brennon? Please," I slowly attempted to get closer to him. I wasn't even five feet away from him, when he turned around. His hands trembled and he fisted the t-shirt he was in the process of throwing into the bag.

I felt small as he stared at me (I was a ballerina, proud and lithe— I shouldn't feel small, but he was tall, so tall), his gray eyes colder and sharper than the glacier that sank the Titanic.

"What—" he clenched his jaw and let out a furious sigh. Rubbing his forehead in defeat, he bit out, "what do you want me to say, Jillian? What do you want me to say?" That you know I am not a cheater.

"Anything," I whispered, swallowing the lump in my throat. He gave me a disgusted glare, his lips twisted in a hurtful snarl.

"Like what?" He threw his shirt on the ground. "Like how my heart ripped into shreds when I found out the love of my life, my fucking fiancé, slept with my best friend?"

After hearing him say those words, I started sobbing. "No, no, no—"

"Can you imagine how that feels, Jillian?" He asked, barely controlling the anger in his voice.

"Please listen—" when he got upset, he retreated into himself and withdrew from everyone. He refused to listen to anything or anyone.

"No, Jillian." He'd been calling me Jillian all night. He never called me Jillian—it was always Jill. My heart ripped more, and the tears wouldn't stop.

"What right do you have to cry? Grow up. You can't be as hurt as me! I'm the one who was cheated on!" Brennon sucked in a deep breath, his eyes losing the steely glint and filling up with tears. He blinked and they were gone. He scoffed in disgust and turned around to resume packing, no trace of the tears.

"Bren, please listen to me. It was a mistake, I didn't mean to sleep with him." I moved in front of him, wiping tears from my eyes. The storm picked up its pace and the wind was whistling furiously. I am not a cheater. I am not a cheater. He had to believe me.

"How can that be a mistake? How can you actively sleep with someone else and then tell me it was a mistake? You chose to do that." Brennon bit out, temper getting the best of him. "You know, when I was first told, I refused to believe it. Because there was no way that was possible. But no, I was wrong."

"I was drunk, and I never meant for it to happen," I begged, my voice breaking. It was a mistake. It wasn't my fault.

"Stop, Jillian. Stop blaming other things and take accountability for once in your fucking life," Brennon spat, gray eyes unforgiving and unrelenting at my pleading gaze.

"I don't like Tommy like that, you know that! And I love you—you're my fiancé!" I sobbed, hitting my fists on his chest.

"What good is your love, huh? If anyone can receive it?" Brennon sneered at me. "Did you know that Tommy had feelings for you? Did he mention that anytime that night, Queen?" He threw in my nickname, there was so much disgust in the name that once held so much love.

I did not feel like a Queen; rather, I felt like my world had stopped. I froze and stared at him. Tommy had feelings for you. That phrase made my head spin. It was a mistake.

"What?" Brennon bitterly laughed at my stunned expression. "Oh, you didn't know? Poor little Jillian. Maybe if you had, you would've rejected me all those years ago and waited on him to get his shit together, huh?"

"But I don't love him." I said with finality, I needed to fix this situation. "I love you! Why can't you see that I made a mistake, and it won't happen again?" I grabbed his shirt, trying to make him see that this was a mistake. That him leaving would be detrimental for both of us.

We were Jill + Bren forever. It was a mistake!

"Because I cannot be with a cheater. It does not matter if it was a mistake, it does not matter if it won't happen again, because I don't trust you!" Brennon roared, his voice blending with the thunder.

"I didn't mean to sleep with him! I was drunk and sad!" I screamed, shaking Brennon as much as I could, but he was immobile.

"Let go of me, Jillian." He whispered this, closing his eyes, tears leaking out from the corners. The fight leaked out with that one motion, and I knew if I didn't fix everything, I'd lose Brennon. I could fix this, I could. I just had to make Brennon see that I didn't mean to and that it wouldn't happen again. I couldn't lose Brennon, too. I had to make everything right.

"I was sad because Tommy told me he had enlisted—" I began, sucking a big breath in.

Brennon scoffed, "Tommy enlisted five months ago, that doesn't mean you go and sleep with him, Jillian."

"Listen to me!" I shouted, shaking him once again. "I didn't know, okay?! Tommy didn't tell me until a week ago. When he told me he was being shipped off to Russia, I went into shock, Bren."

Brennon impassively stared at me.

"You know what I'm like when I go into shock, I was inconsolable, it was a mess. I was drunk, we were emotionally connecting, and one thing led to another, and I don't know, Bren. You've been ignoring me, and I was so so lonely, and Tommy just made me feel."

"That's the most pathetic thing I've heard, Jillian. You think that's supposed to make it all better? You think I'm going to forgive you after hearing that?" Brennon closed his eyes and pursed his lips. "Yeah, fuck you. You're a grade A Bitch."

"You're blinded by your anger. I just explained what happened to you. Why won't you believe me?" I sobbed, my mascara and eyeliner stinging my eyes.

"My anger?" Brennon laughed in disbelief. "You think this is my anger? No, Jillian, you've betrayed me. And now, you have the audacity to gaslight me." He brought his hands up and slowly released my fingers from knotting his shirt. He brushed me to the side, put the last of his stuff in the bag, and zipped it shut. He walked away from me to the doorway of the room.

"Brennon—" I whimpered, clutching my heart as it was physically hurting.

"Fuck me," he out in distress, his voice icy. He turned around and my heart dropped.

"What?"

"Jill, I can't do this anymore." Brennon stated, and suddenly came closer to me. Not knowing what he was about to do, I stepped back, flinching. He noticed it immediately, his eyes widening.

"Yeah, no, I can't be in this relationship with you," he softly whispered. I almost missed it.

"What?" I gasped, clenching my fists. Hot tears pricked the corner of my eyes and I turned away from him. He didn't need to see any more weakness than I had already shown him tonight.

"You hurt me. You cheated on me. With my best friend," he added, his voice bitter. "There's nooo way I'm going to devote the rest of my life to you." Without waiting for my response, he hoisted his duffle bag on his shoulder, walked to where his helmet was, grabbed it, and walked out.

It took me ten seconds to process what had just happened.

"Wait!" I screamed and ran after him. I got to the living room, just as he slammed the door. Flinging the door open, I ran out in the storming rain.

"Brennon!" I heard the grumble of his motorcycle and saw the light of his bike turn on in the thundering rainstorm. My clothes were soaked, my hair whipping around my face, tears mixing with the salty rainwater.

Suddenly, he was in front of me.

I felt his calloused fingers lightly grab my elbow. I squinted my eyes because of the rain, eventually, just looking down at his beat-up Chuck Taylors. He brought his fingers to my chin and with a feathery touch, tilted my face and I had no option but to look into his eyes. The visor acted like a shield from the raindrops, and his eyes were blank.

"When you slept with him, you made your choice. Leaving is mine," he spoke loudly, over the rain and the motorcycle. "The King is dead. Long live the Queen, huh?" He stared at me through his helmet. When I didn't reply, he pushed the visor down, turned around, and got on his bike.

Without a look back, just like that, he drove away.

I stood there until I became numb. Until I could no longer see or hear him. I slowly turned around and walked inside our—no, my, empty apartment. Brennon had taken the warmth out of my life. He had taken the warmth out of everything because he was the fire to my life. The flame to my mediocrity. I shut the door, sliding to the floor. The fight had left me.

What did I just do? I bit my lips, as an effort to not cry. My heart was hurting. I couldn't breathe.

His last words swam in my head, taunting me.

The King is dead. Long live the Queen.