SARA by Katelyn Marie (best historical fiction books of all time TXT) 📕

the west coast and rescued me. He held my hand and kissed me gently on the lips. He promised to take care of me. He listened. He cared, or I thought he did.. .
I can't fuckin' do this. Now I really am going to cry. The tears begin forming in my eyes and I slam the pad of paper shut, stuffing it into my backpack. I grab my backpack and get up from my seat, not looking at anyone but I know they're staring at me. I must look so awkward. I can see it now, my face is probably an apple red color, my eyes tired with red circles framing them. I must look strung out, so fuckin' high. I wish I was

.
I was going to live with him where the sun was warm. I was going to be his wife. I was going to be everything to him. He was already everything to me. He was my first thought in the morning and my last before sleeping. I loved him and yet I barely knew him. Mistake number one. You do not love anyone, you do not know. I sink down in the corner of the bathroom in a far terminal where there is no one. I place my face in my hands and cry.
I finish. I whipe my eyes and try again. The notepad flips open to where I left off and I begin. He saved me from myself at the moment of time. I felt alive, I felt loved and wanted. I was invincible and suddenly all the pain hadn't mattered. He stole me from the hurt and put me up so high away from it. He opened his door at night so the light would come through the darkness of his room. He said he wanted to see me and that I was beautiful. He was the comfort I needed.
I slept with him immediately. This was my second mistake. You don't become so disillusioned as to think that a guy is in love with you when he "makes love" to you. The only thing he's doing, is fucking. He had to leave. He had to go back to the west coast. I cried but he whiped away the tears. "I'll fly you out here soon, baby, I love you", he said. I smiled and waited the seasons through for his promise.
The roughest parts are to follow. I know this and stop writing. I cannot write this. I cannot write it in full. I am so fuckin' ashamed. I want to skip over this part completely. I know I'm a fuck up. I pick up the pen and write as small footnote. I fucked my ex boyfriend twice, had a druken one night stand, and slept with a guy who I am currently seeing back "home". He thinks I'm up north visiting with my grandma. Oh god, I am such a slut. I start laughing. I am such a fuckin' slut, I repeat aloud. Well, good thing I am, at least that asshole is California didn't break me completely. I fucked him over long before he did me. I smile. God, I am so fucked.
I stare straight ahead at the tile on the opposing wall. Nothing is processing in my mind, there is nothing. All the thoughts and feelings, gone. Nothing exists. I gather my things and stand slowly. I look at myself in the full length mirror. I don't know the person, staring at me. I should find her, but who knows how long that will take. I'm always looking for someone to blame, my family, the "factors beyond my control" as I so accurately call them, but the truth is, no one is to blame, just the girl in the mirror. My flight is leaving soon; Philadelphia bound. I drag my suitcase behind me, the wheels spinning, the sound vibrating off the floor is familiar.

CHAPTER 8: EXAMINATION

I rip a yellow sheet from the notepad. The flight is going to be a quick one and I'll confront myself on this flight, because its short. I do not have to go into depth of the things I feel. I want to get it over with. The plane ascends into the air and I'm not afraid. I've been on five different planes in a matter of two days. Just get it over with. Write.
I do not want to do this. I do not want to fuckin' do this. This is fuckin' stupid. I do not know where to even begin. And so I write. I fucked up. I hate myself for being so stupid. I hate him but I really hate myself. He had been an hour late in picking me up at the airport. I had traveled through the night and I couldn't sleep, excitement getting the best of me. I didn't want anything, only to see his face. I was nervous that maybe he wouldn't love me anymore. I didn't know that I had been correct in this assumption. It was early morning and the sun fell hot against my face. He took my bags from the back seat and carried them upstairs to his room. He shut the door behind him. He took off his shirt and kissed me hard. He pulled me on top of him. I didn't feel right. I wanted to run away, but I didn't say a word. His sheets were green and the palm trees outside baked in the sun. He fucked me.
He finished and there wasn't any words. There wasn't any "I love you's", just silence. He shut his eyes, his arms folded neatly on his chest. I stared at him and kissed his forehead, he didn't move. I dozed off gently. It was mid-afternoon when I opened my eyes again, he was still asleep. I looked through the window at the heat rising off the street. I shut my eyes again and woke as dusk filled the room, the sun almost completely gone in the distance. I heard the door open and close and he was gone. I layed for a while, waiting him to return with a a smile on his face, but he never came; instead just the sound of my phone vibrating on the floor next to me. "This was a mistake, I can't have you here. Can you just go home?"
I stop writing. I look out the window at the clouds. This is so pointless. God, he is such an asshole. He fuckin' flew me across the country to fuck me and send me on my way. He got what he wanted, he got all of me and I got nothing. He used me. This is so bad, so bad. I rest my middle finger and my thumb on the inside creases of my eyes and stop my mind from thinking of anything more than the sound of the propellers. I am worth so much more than this. I do not understand why I keep hurting myself. This wasn't beyond my control. This was the result of a fucked, compulsive decision that I made. I need to change, my God, I need to change.
I feel the wheels of the plane touchdown on the earth and I open my eyes. Philadelphia; almost "home". I turn the key in the ignition of my car. I want to cry again, but I resist. The highway feels so long. I leave my bags in the trunk and walk to the front door, touching the handle with desperation. I shut the bathroom door behind me and lock it. I lean against it and burst into tears. I cannot stop, I cannot breathe. I slide to the floor, a heap of shit, wasted and broken. My knees draw in close to my chest and I sob. I un-do the buckle on the side of my boots and rip them from my feet, throwing them against the bathtub. I get up and turn the water on, it could burn my skin. I let it run and walk over to the sink. I stare at myself- an examination process as the steam forms, coating the mirror in a thick cloud. I take off my shirt and my bra and slide off my jeans. I'm naked but unphased. I climb into the bath, and let the hot water scald my feet. It's so damn hot, but I do not care. Fuck it. I lay down and the let the water run over me. I close my eyes. Good bye California. Good bye asshole. Good bye crazy Sara. Fuck off.

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Publication Date: 11-05-2009

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