Chapter 54

Logan

One month later

I reach out for the whiskey glass, but my hand is too shaky, my head is spinning, and I can't properly hold it. I wince as it shatters against the floor, with the glass splattered everywhere.

I notice drips of blood on my hand – probably from the glass. I can't get myself to clean it up. I honestly can't really get myself to do anything right now. My own body doesn't listen to me anymore.

"So that's what you were doing..."

I close my eyes, leaning back against the bed. For fuck's sake, Mar, not now... When did she even get here? Didn't she say that she was going to... fuck, I don't even know where she told me she was going.

I let out a long exhale, mentally preparing myself for the headache about to hit me from another fight. The first thing I notice when my eyes meet hers is how pretty she looks. Her blonde hair curled into perfect tight locks, and she's wearing... wings?

Oh shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

The Victoria's secret show – fuck, the opening was tonight? "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I completely forgot."

She bites her lips, with her eyes watering, sending a punch to my gut.

"Don't cry," I manage to make out. "Please don't cry."

My legs finally cooperate to get me out of bed. But before I can hug her, she pulls away. "Don't touch me," She breathes out, looking at the shattered glass. "You know what time it is, Logan? Do you even know what day it is?"

I purse my lips, wiping the blood from my palm. I have no clue what day or time it is. I reach out for her hand but it's cold and she's trembling, and I wish she can peak inside my mind to fathom the demons I'm battling with – But no, it's too dark, even for her.

I press her against my chest, her sobs twisting my gut into knots of guilt. Guilt for treating her like shit. Guilt for existing. A gut-wrenching type of guilt that has never left me ever since I took away someone else's life.

Bu this is exactly what I deserve. This type of pain is the best punishment. The only difference is that she doesn't deserve it. She doesn't deserve one bit of everything that I put her through.

"I love you so much," I mutter against her ear.

She pulls away, shaking her head. "I can't, Logan," She breathes out. "I can't do it anymore."

I nod, wiping the blood on my palm with my shirt. She's right. She deserves so much more. And I need to be alone. I need to be miserable and alone and unhappy. That's my destiny, not hers.

"You're right," I say as I walk towards my closet. "I'll pack my shit and leave. I'll clean up your floor first, though."

She purses her lips. "You're not even going to fight for me, are you?" Her voice breaks my fucking heart. "Tonight, was supposed to be the happiest night of my life. A huge milestone in my career. And like a fucking idiot, instead of enjoying it, I kept thinking of you."

I can't fight for you because I can't get myself to get the fuck out of bed. And I know that I should tell her that, that I should take her out to dinner and show her that I care, that I should give her the scarf that I bought her the other day when I went to buy more whiskey, that I should stay, goddamn it, but I can't.

"Is he coming? Is he okay? Did he overdose – will I come back and find him-" She breaks into tears again.

"God, Mar," I let out a long exhale as she pushes me away.

"You would have showed up for her."

"Don't mention her," I automatically say. I close my eyes and count to three, as Emily's face haunts me again - the dozens of voice mails and text messages she left me, the empty promises I left her with, and mostly the self-loathing that I feel every time I think of her.

Mar shakes her head. "I've loved you with all my fucking heart, for the past four fucking years, and it's still not good enough. I'm still not good enough for you. I don't know what to do, Logan. What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing," I mutter as I pick up the glass from the floor. "I told you, I'm packing my shit and leaving."

"It doesn't have to be this way. You're not even trying, Logan. I hate it when you do this, I hate it when you won't even try. You're better than this, Lo, you know that you are-"

Her hand grabs my arm before I can throw the glass into the trash bin. "Please, Logan. I hate seeing you this way."

"I'll be fine," I manage to make out as I throw my shit into my backpack.

"Where are you even going to stay?"

I don't have the energy to say anything, so I just walk out. Even all the noise and life filling New York City's streets can't fill the void inside my chest. I walk until my legs ache, with no clue of where I'm going.

All I know is that life is a fucking bitch, that I can't find any meaning in everything that I do. That I'm scared that this is all there ever will be. That I'll forever be alone with my thoughts and my demons.

I can't forgive myself. I can't forget. I can't go on pretending that nothing has ever happened. Because it all comes back to me. It's still haunting me, every fucking day, in between my coffee breaks and when I'm driving and when I'm drinking and when I'm fucking petting Mar's stupid cat.

Flashbacks and memories have held me captive and nothing I do can help me escape the misery of my existence.

a/n

sorry for the typos, didn't even proof read this, i just wrote it during my lunch break hehe. anyway, like 4 chapters left! vote if you want a happy ending ;)