“Get the fuck off,” I say as I shove him away with every ounce of strength I have. It does nothing but push me backward, hitting the chaise and brushing my elbow against the leather. “Stay the fuck away from me,” I grit out with disdain, pointing a finger at his chest.

He walks right into it. My finger is now touching his chest.

It’s the lack of respect for my boundaries. This is the last fucking time I let him disrespect me.

His chest is like a brick wall, hard and unmoving, even after I slam my fist into it. My throat feels raw as I scream and the sides of my hands spasm with agony as I beat them against his chest over and over. “Get away from me!” Tears stream down my face in an oh-so-familiar path.

I hate it. I hate it all.

I hate the way it hurts. I hate that he did it.

I hate that I know he’d do it again, no matter how much he insists that he’d start the story over if he could. He’d do it the same way each and every time, because he doesn’t trust me to love him.

“I hate you,” I scream at him and his idiocy. “Stay away from me!”

Jase doesn’t try to hold me back or stop me. He simply watches me lose it. The look on his face is one I recognize and it only makes my heart hurt more.

When our patients don’t want to admit they’re not okay but they’re struggling to do anything at all we tell them, sometimes you have to break. You have to let it out, you have to feel it, you have to move through it even if you’re a sobbing mess the entire time.

Sometimes a good cry or screaming session to let the anger and sorrow out is unavoidable.

Sometimes you have to break, even if you know you won’t be put back together when you get to the other side of it all.

My body feels heavy as I drop to the floor on my knees. Struggling with the weight of it all. I can feel his hands on me, his grip to stay close to him, but I ignore it.

How many times have I held on to someone just as Jase is and told them to do it, to let it all out? To break apart. Not because you want to, not even to make anything better. Simply because you have to.

“You’re a monster.” The statement swells as it leaves me, strangling me as it goes.

Still, Jase holds on to my wrists.

The smooth wood is cold and I just want to lay my heated face against it. To let it all out, but Jase is there, not leaving me alone.

“I had to,” he says and the statement is stretched with desperation.

I can barely swallow at this point, let alone speak.

There’s no use fighting his grip on me; he’s stronger. There’s no use trying to wipe my eyes, since the tears keep coming.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispers once I’ve stopped altogether, just feeling every piece of me shatter.

He didn’t mean to, but he did it anyway.

“I didn’t want to lie to you,” he says and his voice is calming as he brings me into his lap.

He didn’t want to, yet he did.

A heave of sorrow erupts from inside of me as I realize I didn’t want to love him, but I did. I didn’t want to trust him, but I did.

“There are very few things that a person has to do,” I whisper against his shirt, staring at the crack of light under the door. “You chose to do that to me. You chose to lie and scare me to get me to do what you wanted. You chose to manipulate me.”

The gentle rocking is paused and it’s then that I realize how hot I am, leaning against him and I try to pull away. This time he lets me.

The irony is that all he had to do was ask or even tell me. I was so desperate for someone and something. Him scaring me had nothing to do with it. “You didn’t have to do it.”

“I told you, I told you if I could start it over, I would.” His voice is low, but has an edge of anguish.

“You didn’t tell me why though,” I say and lift my head to look him in the eyes, finding my own reflection staring back at me. Crumpled and weak, just how he sees me. “You didn’t tell me it’s because you lied to me every step of the way.”

“There are reasons.”

“There’s no reason good enough.”

“I couldn’t let you go.”

“It’s not your decision to make.” Every response from me turns colder and more absolute. Inside I’m on fire, the blaze of hate destroying everything that made me feel alive with Jase Cross. It rages in my mind, changing the memories, making me feel like they weren’t real.

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