Drugged

"She doesn't want to see you."

I was baffled. "Why?" I demanded. I tried the door but it was locked. She never locked the door, not when she knew I was coming around. I faced her secretary, "Why?" I asked again, over and over, as if his answer would change.

He simply shrugged, "She doesn't want to see you."

That made me sit down, well, more like dropped on my rear. I tried replaying yesterday, and the day before, the week before, the month before... Where did I go wrong? What happened? What did I say? What.... I remembered she had a hospital appointment the day before. Was that why she had shut me out? Because something was wrong with her? I sighed and stood up on my heels, straightening my dress slightly as I took out my notepad, wrote down a message and placed it on the secretary's desk. I didn't know if he would even relay the message, but a girl could certainly hope. Maybe. I walked away all the same, wishing she would read the note.

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She was finally gone. I heard everything she said behind my door, mostly because I was sitting down behind it, my knees up to my chest. I didn't have to see her face to know what she was feeling; she probably felt she did something wrong, or that she said something wrong. The way she said "why" explained everything to me - I knew the woman long enough to know that she was confused. Probably hurt. Probably hating me. But I had to shut her out. What if she knew? How crushed would she be? I could barely think about it without breaking apart myself. I had to save her. If I couldn't save myself, let me save the woman. Let me, God, just let me. Just this once.

My secretary unlocked the door, walked in and placed a note on my desk, ignoring the way I was down on the cold, hard floor. He wouldn't understand so I didn't feel the need to explain. I knew what it was; the note was in the woman's favourite colour and I could probably figure out what she wrote on it.

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I missed her. I miss her so much,  I thought to myself, trying my best not to get choked up. It felt like I was being selfish. Maybe I was. But for once, I didn't care. I had to see her. I had to know. I had to-

"You can't be mad at her for leaving when you were the one who pushed her away all this time."

I was cut short as I remembered this excerpt. I wanted to swallow, but my mouth was dry. My throat didn't make any movements and I was desperate for a movement. I knew it was true. I pushed her away more than I could bear to count. But she stayed all the same... what if she got tired of fighting for me, when I stopped fighting for myself all those years ago when he had left? That must be the reason. She didn't want to see me because she was sick and tired of the way I acted. She was tired of me. She was sick of me.

If there was a summer breeze running through my hair, I didn't feel it. I wasn't walking anymore, I was frozen in place in front of the building where she was worked. People walked by me, almost through me, as I stood still, my eyes down at the white pavement. Somebody must have shaken me, because I heard a voice. I conjured up whatever energy I had in me to face whoever standing in front of me, hands still on my shoulder. I tried smiling - nothing. I tried to speak - nothing. Before I knew it, my breakdown crept over me, making me fall into this stranger, this bless of a man, who just dropped down with me as I cried and cried in his strong arms. My face was buried on one of his shoulders, smearing my salty tears all over his suit. But he didn't seem to mind, that's what I had wanted to believe. I think he tried asking what was wrong, but I couldn't talk. Not with the way I was bawling my eyes out. Somehow I slipped away from the stranger's arms and left for home. I didn't know where that was anymore, but I couldn't stay any longer. I had to, I had to go. Somewhere. Anywhere. Not here.


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I was crushed. When she froze, my heart shattered. The broken pieces broke into more little pieces. And when she fell into his arms, I held myself back so much, resisting the urge to hold her in my own arms. I couldn't, I wasn't entitled to. Maybe I did before, but now, it wasn't my place. The sounds of her crying made a tugging motion in my chest, I couldn't breathe, just stood there and watched as she cried. Over me. This woman was crying over me. If only she knew. If she knew the truth... there probably would be more than tears. My cowardice caused her to breakdown. I broke her. I did this. Warm tears streamed down my face, but I ignored it. It felt selfish of me to cry as well. I exhaled deeply, as silently as possible so that the duo didn't notice my presence. I was startled when she stood up so suddenly. I knew what she was going to do, she had to go somewhere. But where? I had to figure it out; I shut her out but I couldn't leave her alone. She was impulsive and spontaneous. If she... it would be entirely my own fault. I couldn't let that happen, but maybe that was an excuse for me to follow her around.