The End

The pretty wallpaper he'd put up for her benefit had taken a beating from misuse and the hard erosion of time and ugly neglect. She sat on the bed, arms folded tight across her chest as she tried to hold herself together while she watched her world fall apart. The wallpaper was peeling, exposing the garish truth hidden beneath the lies she'd tried so hard to hold up.

This was it. Never before had the end felt this final. She watched him pack, without a word, as sobs racked her body sporadically. If she were to be truthful with herself, she'd seen this coming, even felt it for quite some time. But for whatever god awful reason, she'd held on so tightly to the very thing that cut deeper the harder she squeezed to keep it in her grasp.

There were no physical marks, but she looked at her hands anyways, to see if she'd been cut right through or if she had opened her hands and let that rusty blade slip from her grip before it severed her completely. And she knew the answer, as heavy as it sat in her chest.

She was going to be okay. She didn't have any choice. All those times she swore she'd never breathe another breath if she had to live even a second without him, all those words were bittersweet lies. This was the end, and no matter how hard it hurt, she was still standing. And she would continue to stand.

5 years of her young life, 5 years she could never get back or trade in or do over. Those 5 years were behind her now. And though they made her, shaped her, they could not dim the fighting spirit within her body that she often fought tooth and nail.

She dropped him off without goodbye, without a look back. She cried, oh how she cried. But she knew she would be fine, even if she didn't want to be.