The One I Love
Title: The One I Love
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, never happened.
Summary: I was just as childish. I was the girl next door who takes her dolls outside. Not because she wants to play in the sunshine, but just because she wants the other children to see that she has, while they have not.
POV: Missy's
“So the way I feel… It doesn’t matter to you at all, does it?” the realization hit me, a fist in my gut. My breath caught in my throat, and I struggled to inhale.
“It does matter.” He insisted, blue eyes troubled, running his fingers through his hair. I shook my head, lips pursed. I wanted to take his word for it, follow him as blindly as I had every time before this.
But it simply hurt too much. This was the single thing that tipped the balance.
Before, whenever that one--The Other One-The Green Eyed Boy-The One My Husband Really Loved spoke ill of me, I was able to let it roll off my back. After all, I was the one Bam had married. I was the one that slept with him every night. I was the one he kissed; I was the one who wore his ring.
The sneers, the rolled eyes, the catty little remarks didn’t bother me. I will say that I was slightly surprised. I thought we were all adults here, and I thought that we could act like that.
Not that I was much better, staking my claim on Bam the way I did. Not that I made it much easier, rubbing it in as I did, with a hand on his knee, or my head on his shoulder.
I was just as childish. I was the girl next door who takes her dolls outside. Not because she wants to play in the sunshine, but just because she wants the other children to see that she has, while they have not.
I was the girl who curled her hair every day for school, who wore the frilliest party dresses. Not because she had somewhere special to go, but just because she wanted people to know how pretty she was.
Even though he was miserable, and that made me miserable, I pretended I didn’t know. I pretended that I did not see. Maybe if I covered my head with the blanket, maybe if I closed my eyes really tight, the monsters would go away.
If I can’t see it, it isn’t there.
It had all gotten to be too much for the two of us-no, the three of us. The betrayal, the backstabbing, the ultimatums, and the lies we all told ourselves and each other were killing us.
So maybe that was why, after Ville spat all those horrible things at me in my own kitchen, Bam didn’t kick him out.
Whore, slut, bitch, gold digging tramp, liar. They didn’t hurt because they were false, but probably because they were more than a little bit true. And what hurt most of all was the fact that Bam simply stared into his glass of wine.
The fact that he didn’t deny these words told me that he too thought they were true.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked, his voice ringing defeat.
“What do I want? I want you to love me, Bam!” I knew even as I said that it wasn’t possible.
“Missy--,” even the way he said my name confirmed it. I shook my head before turning towards the door.
“I can’t stay here like this, Bam. If you don’t love me, I have to leave.”
“I loved you once,” he whispered.
“But not anymore.”
“No,” he shook his head slowly. “Not anymore.”
Wordlessly, I turned the knob and stepped out, knowing that he wouldn’t be following me.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, never happened.
Summary: I was just as childish. I was the girl next door who takes her dolls outside. Not because she wants to play in the sunshine, but just because she wants the other children to see that she has, while they have not.
POV: Missy's
“So the way I feel… It doesn’t matter to you at all, does it?” the realization hit me, a fist in my gut. My breath caught in my throat, and I struggled to inhale.
“It does matter.” He insisted, blue eyes troubled, running his fingers through his hair. I shook my head, lips pursed. I wanted to take his word for it, follow him as blindly as I had every time before this.
But it simply hurt too much. This was the single thing that tipped the balance.
Before, whenever that one--The Other One-The Green Eyed Boy-The One My Husband Really Loved spoke ill of me, I was able to let it roll off my back. After all, I was the one Bam had married. I was the one that slept with him every night. I was the one he kissed; I was the one who wore his ring.
The sneers, the rolled eyes, the catty little remarks didn’t bother me. I will say that I was slightly surprised. I thought we were all adults here, and I thought that we could act like that.
Not that I was much better, staking my claim on Bam the way I did. Not that I made it much easier, rubbing it in as I did, with a hand on his knee, or my head on his shoulder.
I was just as childish. I was the girl next door who takes her dolls outside. Not because she wants to play in the sunshine, but just because she wants the other children to see that she has, while they have not.
I was the girl who curled her hair every day for school, who wore the frilliest party dresses. Not because she had somewhere special to go, but just because she wanted people to know how pretty she was.
Even though he was miserable, and that made me miserable, I pretended I didn’t know. I pretended that I did not see. Maybe if I covered my head with the blanket, maybe if I closed my eyes really tight, the monsters would go away.
If I can’t see it, it isn’t there.
It had all gotten to be too much for the two of us-no, the three of us. The betrayal, the backstabbing, the ultimatums, and the lies we all told ourselves and each other were killing us.
So maybe that was why, after Ville spat all those horrible things at me in my own kitchen, Bam didn’t kick him out.
Whore, slut, bitch, gold digging tramp, liar. They didn’t hurt because they were false, but probably because they were more than a little bit true. And what hurt most of all was the fact that Bam simply stared into his glass of wine.
The fact that he didn’t deny these words told me that he too thought they were true.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked, his voice ringing defeat.
“What do I want? I want you to love me, Bam!” I knew even as I said that it wasn’t possible.
“Missy--,” even the way he said my name confirmed it. I shook my head before turning towards the door.
“I can’t stay here like this, Bam. If you don’t love me, I have to leave.”
“I loved you once,” he whispered.
“But not anymore.”
“No,” he shook his head slowly. “Not anymore.”
Wordlessly, I turned the knob and stepped out, knowing that he wouldn’t be following me.