“I love you.”
His words stop me in my tracks. What does he think he’s doing? He has no right to tell me that. No right at all. But…
“No you don’t.” I say the words, knowing they’ll hurt him. But, why should I care? He’s hurt me far worse before.
“Yes I do.” Persistent bastard. “I really do. I love you.” I act like I didn’t hear him and start to walk away, carrying my school books in front of me like a shield. “Wait!” He grabs my arm and I stop, silently panicking. What do I do?! “Please, believe me this time. I love you.”
I stand there, trying to block out his words. Oh but they sound so sweet and wonderful! I love you. Did he really say that? Yes, of course he did. There was no one else in the classroom but us, so it had to have been him. Or a memory.
“I love you.” Those words. He said them again. And my resolve melted just a little bit, and I wanted to believe him again, just a little bit. “I mean it this time. I love you.”
But then I am brought back to reality. I mean it this time. I love you. How many times before had he said that? How many times had I believed him? Too many. Too many times I had been taken in by his sweet words and charming personality and disarming crooked smile.
“No.” I whispered the word, but I felt the hand on my arm loosen in surprise and shock. Good. Maybe this time it will sink into his thick skull that I don’t want this anymore. Maybe he’ll get it this time that I mean it when I say I’m done. “No. No you don’t.” My voice is a little louder this time, a little fuller with new found confidence.
“You don’t love me and you never did.” But I loved you and still do. I choke a little as the words flash in my mind. No. I can’t tell him that. I can’t tell anyone that. Pushing that thought to the back of my mind, I push forward, wanting to hurt him as he had hurt me. “You don’t love me. You don’t love anyone. You can’t love anyone.”
“What?” He’s completely taken aback by what I’ve said and I look up at him, a sad sort of smile lighting my face. “What does that mean, I can’t love anyone?”
“You haven’t faced your past yet; you haven’t allowed your wounds to heal. All you did was cover them up and hope no one would notice that you’re hurting on the inside. But honey,” I drop my books and lay a hand on his arm, my green eyes searching his brown ones for understanding. “I see it. And you can’t really love anyone until you’ve faced your past and allowed yourself to heal. But…” I swallow reflexively, blinking away the tears that are threatening to fall. “It doesn’t matter. You never really loved me anyway.”
“That…” He’s grasping for words as I pick up my books and slowly begin to walk away. “Wait!” He calls, reaching out a hand towards me, “I love you.”
“No honey, you don’t.” My smile is sad as I walk away, leaving him alone in the classroom, gaping after me. I love you. But you’ll never know that. As the though crosses my mind, I can feel my heart breaking as silent tears begin to roll down my cheek.