Songs for this chapter are: 

Iris- Goo Goo Dolls

All I want- Kodaline

If I didn't know better- The Civil Wars

..

Tessa's POV.

"Tessa? Tessa, are you okay?" Kimberly yells from the other side of the bathroom door.

"I'm fine," I manage the words, they sound as broken as I feel.

No, not broken. I'm not broken, I'm defeated. What I feel right now is purely defeat. I've spent months and months fighting against the inevitable, pushing against a current that was much too big to hold alone, and now I've been swallowed by it with no lifeboats in sight.

The water is cold now, it's been cold for minutes.. maybe even an hour. I haven't the slightest idea of how much time I've spent here, crouched down on the floor, my knees folded against my chest, letting the cold water spray down on me. It was borderline painful a while ago, but my body went numb a few Kimberly check-ups ago.

"You have to get out of that shower. Don't think I won't break the door down," she warns me. I don't doubt for a second that she would do just that.

I reach up and turn the shower off but I make no move to leave my spot on the floor.

"I'm getting out," I call back to her.

By the time I stand up my legs are wobbly and my hair is almost dry. I dig into my bag and go through the mechanics of pulling on my jeans, one leg then the next, lift arms above head, pull shirt down over stomach. I feel like a robot and when I wipe my hand across the mirror I see that I look like one too.

How many times will he do this? I ask my reflection.

No, how many times will I let him do this? That's the real question.

"No more," I say out loud to the stranger looking back at me.

Hardin's POV.

"Damn Scott! Look at you, you're a fucking mammoth!" James stands from the couch and moves toward me. It's true, compared to both him and Mark, I am a fucking mammoth.

"What are you six-foot-fucking-ten?" James asks. His eyes glossy and bloodshot. It's barely one in the afternoon.

"Six-three," I correct him and he does the same friendly greeting as Mark, a firm hand on my shoulder.

"This is fucking awesome, we need to get the word out that you're back. Everyone's still here man," James rubs his hands together like he's plotting something big and I don't even want to know what that may be.

Has Tessa found the bag outside of the door yet? What did she think about it?

Did she cry? Or is she beyond that now? I sure as hell don't want the answer to that question. I don't want to picture her face when she opened the door, I don't even want to think about the way she felt when she saw that there was only one ticket stuffed into the front pocket of that suitcase. All my clothes have been removed from it and tossed into the backseat of my rental.

I know her well enough to know that she's going to expect a goodbye from me. She is going to try to find me before she gives up but after her one last effort, she will give up. She won't have a choice because she will never be able to find me before the flight and by tomorrow she will be across the world.

"Dude!" Mark's voice is loud and his hand is waving in front of my face. "Are you fucking zoning out?" He asks.

"My bad," I shrug.

If Tessa was to get lost in London, I don't know what I would do.

Mark and James break into conversation over who they will be inviting to the party, they name loads of familiar names and a few that I haven't heard. They are already making phone calls for a mid-day party, barking out times and liquor orders.

I begin to look around the apartment for the first time since I walked through the door. It's a fucking mess. It looks the way the frat house did every Saturday and Sunday morning. Our apartment never looked this way, when Tessa was around at least. The counters were never covered in old pizza boxes and the tables were free of beer bottles and bongs. I'm backtracking and I fucking know it.

Speaking of bongs, I don't even have to look at Mark and James to know what they are doing now. I can hear the bubbling noise of the water bong and the distinct smell of pot is filling the room.

Like the masochist that I am, I pull my phone out of my pocket and turn the power back on. The picture I have set as my wallpaper is my new favorite picture of her, for now at least, it changes every damn week  but this picture is fucking perfection. Her blonde hair is down, hanging over her shoulders and the light is shining on her, making her glow under the light. A smile takes up her entire face and her eyes are screwed shut, her nose is crinkled in the most adorable fucking way.

She was laughing at me, scolding me really, for smacking her ass in front of Kimberly and I snapped the picture just as she burst into laughter when I leaned over and whispered into her ear the other, much dirtier things I could do in front of her friend.

"Give me some of whatever you're on!" James snatches my phone from my hand but I'm quick to take it back before he can get a glance at the picture.

"Touchy, touchy," James mocks me as I change the settings. No need to fuel these fuckers.

"I invited Janine," Mark says, sharing a laugh with James.

"I don't know why you two are laughing. She's your sister," I point to Mark, "and you fucked her too," I point to James. Mark's sister is known for fucking every single one of her little brother's friends.

"Fuck you, man!" James takes another hit from the bong and passes it to me.

Tessa would fucking kill me. She would be so disappointed, she doesn't approve of me drinking, let alone smoking pot.

"Hit it or pass it," Mark urges.

"If Janine is coming over, you'll need it. She is still hot as fuck," James tells me, earning a glare from Mark and a laugh from me.

Hours pass this way, smoking, dwelling, drinking, dwelling, smoking, and before I know it, the place is full of people, including Janine.

Tessa's POV.

"I'm fine to go by myself. If I find him and you're with me he will feel cornered and it will make things worse," I tell Kimberly for the second time. She has been insisting to come with me to find Hardin but I know I need to do this alone.

I may not have much, but I still have a little pride and I would rather face him by myself and have this conversation one on one. I know exactly what he's going to do. He's going to tell me that I am too good for him and he is no good for me. He's going to say something hurtful and I will try to convince him otherwise.

I know Kimberly must think I'm a fool for chasing after him after his cold dismissal but I love him and this is what you do when you love someone, you fight for them and chase after them when you know they need you. You help them fight the battle against themselves and you never give up on them, even when they give up on themselves.

"Be careful please. I don't want to have to kill Hardin but at this point, nothing is off the table," she half smiles at me. "Wait, one thing," Kimberly raises a finger and rushes over to the coffee table in the center of the room. She digs through her purse and waves me over to her.

Kimberly, being Kimberly, brushes a shiny, colorless gloss across my lips and hands me a tube of mascara. "You want to look your best, right?" She grins. Despite the ache in my chest, I smile at her effort and make myself look decent.

Ten minutes later, my cheeks are no longer red from crying. The puffiness around my eyes is less noticeable thanks to concealer and a little shadow, my hair is brushed and somewhat controlled into large waves. Kimberly gave up after a few minutes, claiming that "beach waves" are in right now. I don't remember her changing me out of my t-shirt and into a tank top and cardigan but she has managed to transform me from a zombie in a remarkably short amount of time.

"Promise me that you will call me if you need me. Don't think I won't come looking for you." Kimberly threatens. I nod in agreement, knowing that she won't hesitate. She hugs me twice more before giving me the keys to Christian's rental that Hardin left in the parking lot.

When I get into the car, I plug my phone into the charger and roll the window all the way down. The car smells like Hardin and the empty coffee cups from this morning are still in the cup holders, reminding me of the way he made love to me only hours ago. That was his goodbye to me, I knew it then I just wasn't ready to accept it. I didn't want to admit the defeat that was skimming around the surface, waiting to encase me. It doesn't seem possible that it's already five o'clock. I have less than two  hours to find Hardin and convince him to come back home with me. The flight boards at eight-thirty but we have to arrive around seven to go through security, just to be safe.

Will I be on the flight alone? I have the sick feeling that I will.

Who am I kidding really, I only know one place to look for him and if he isn't there, I have no idea what I will do. I can't drive aimlessly around London with no money and no where to go.

Desperate and worried, I try to call him again and I nearly burst into happy tears when he picks up the phone.

"Hellooo, who is this?" An unrecognizable male voice says on the other end of the line. I pull the phone away to be sure I called the right number, Hardin's name is clear across the screen. "Hellooo," the man draws out the word again.

"Uhm, hi? Is Hardin there?" I ask, my stomach twists. I have a bad feeling about this guy and I don't have a clue who he is.

Laughter and multiple voices echo in the background, more than one of them are female voices. "Scott is.. disposed at the moment," the man tells me. Disposed? 

"It's indisposed you idiot," a woman laughs in the background. Oh god.

"Where is he?" I ask. I'm on speaker phone now, I can tell.

"He's busy. Who is this? Are you coming to the party? Is that why you called?" Another male asks.

Party? At five in the evening? I try to focus on that useless fact rather than the multiple female voices and the fact that Hardin is "busy".

"Yeah." My mouth answers before my brain agrees. "I need the address again," my voice is shaky and unsure but they don't seem to notice.

The man who answered the phone gives me an address and I quickly type it into the navigation on my phone. It crashes twice and I have to ask him to repeat himself but he obliges, telling me that there is more liquor there than I've ever seen in my life.

Twenty minutes later I am pulling into the small lot in front of a rundown brick building. The windows are large and the three of them are covered in what looks like white tape or possibly garbage bags. The lot is full of cars,  the BMW that I drove here sticks out like a sore thumb. The only car even close in resemblance is Hardin's rental. It's parked in the front space, meaning he has been parked here longer than most of the cars.

When I reach the door of the building, I take a deep breath to gather my strength. The stranger on the phone said it was the second door on the third floor. The shady building doesn't seem large enough to have three floors but as I climb the stairs to the top floor, I am proven wrong. The sound of loud voices and the thick smell of marijuana hits me before I even reach the top of the staircase on the second floor.

Why would Hardin be here? Why would he come to this place to deal with his issues? My heart is racing and my stomach is tied in knots as my mind flips through all of the possible things that could be happening behind the door.

Has Hardin checked his phone and saw that I called? If he was warned of my arrival that will lower the chances of him doing something that I don't want to see when the door opens.

I shake my head, clearing all the doubts. Why am I so paranoid and nervous? This is Hardin I'm talking about, my Hardin. Even mad and withdrawn, beyond cruel words, he would never do anything to purposely hurt me. He is going through a hard time with all of his family issues and he just needs me to stomp in there and take him home with me. I'm psyching myself out and getting worked up for nothing.

The door opens just before I reach up to knock and a young guy wearing all black walks past me without stopping or closing the door behind him. Waves of smoke roll out into the hallway and I have to fight the urge to cover my nose and mouth. I step through the threshold, coughing and I stop in my tracks at the sight in front of me.

I was first shocked by the half naked girl sitting on the floor but now as I look around the room, I notice that nearly everyone is half naked.

"Lose the shirt," a young guy with a beard says to a bleach blonde girl. She rolls her eyes but quickly disposes of her shirt, leaving her in only a bra and panties. It takes me a few seconds to realize that they are playing some sort of card game that involves taking their clothes off. This realization is much better than the initial conclusion my mind went to.

I'm slightly relieved that Hardin isn't in the group of naked card players and as I scan the crowded living room, I don't see him.

"Are you coming in or what?" Someone asks me. I look around, searching for the source of the voice. "Close the door behind you and come in," he says again and I'm sure he is the person that answered Hardin's phone.

"Have I met you before, Bambi?" He asks.

I shake my head, all words have dissolved on my tongue. He chuckles and I shift uncomfortably as his bloodshot eyes rake over my body, staying too long on my chest to be considered anything but vulgar. I don't like his chosen nickname for me but I can't seem to find a way to tell him my real name.

"Mark," he introduces himself, reaching for my hand but I flinch away. Mark.. I instantly recognize the name from Hardin's letter. He's friendly enough but I know how he really is. I know what he did to all those girls.

 "This is my flat. Who invited you?" He asks. His accent is thick and I note that he is attractive, somewhat frightening, but attractive. His brown hair is sticking up at the front and his facial hair is messy yet groomed, a "douche bag, hipster look" as Hardin calls it but I find it decent. His arms are bare of any tattoos but there are two piercings below his bottom lip.  

"I'm.. uhm," I struggle to get a grip on my nerves. 

He laughs again and grabs ahold of my hand, "well Bambi, lets get you a drink to relax you. You're freaking me out," he smiles and leads me into the kitchen.

I'm beginning to wonder if Hardin is even here. Maybe he dropped the car here and his phone before going some place else, maybe he's in the car. Why didn't I check the car? I search the crowd in the kitchen and my breath is knocked clear from my chest when I finally see him.

If anyone were to ask me how I feel right now, I'm not sure what I would say. I don't think I have an answer to that question. I feel pain and heartache and panic and rejection but at the same time I feel numb. I feel nothing and everything at once and it's the worst feeling I have ever felt.

Hardin is leaning against the counter with a joint between his lips and a bottle of liquor in one hand. That's not what made my heart stop though, what stole my breath was the woman sitting on the counter behind him, her bare legs wrapped around his waist. He makes no move to remove them even as I approach him with the guy named Mark.

"Scott! Give me the damn vodka, I need to make my new friend Bambi here a drink." Mark yells. Hardin's bloodshot eyes turn to Mark and he smiles a nasty smile. A smile that I have never seen from him. I watch as he looks from Mark to me, to find out who "Bambi" is. 

I'm close enough to see his dilated pupils blow out and that foreign smile is instantly wiped away.

"What.. what are you.." he fumbles the words. His eyes follow down my arm and somehow manage to widen further as he takes in the sight of Mark's hand over mine. Pure rage fills his eyes and I pull my hand away.

"You two know each other?" Mark asks.

I don't respond, instead my eyes narrow in on the woman who's legs are still wrapped around Hardin's waist. He still hasn't made any move to remove her from him. She's wearing only panties and a t-shirt. A plain black t-shirt. 

Hardin is wearing his black sweatshirt but I don't see the familiar peek of faded black at the collar of the oversized sweater. She's oblivious to the encounter, only focused on the joint that she just pulled from Hardin's mouth. She even smiles at me, a clueless, obviously impaired smile.

I have been rendered silent. Stunned that I even know this person in front of me. I don't think I could speak even if I wanted to. I know Hardin is in a dark place right now but seeing him like this, high and drunk and with another woman is too much for me. It's too fucking much and all I can think of doing is getting as far away from him as possible.

"I'll take that as a yes," Mark laughs and pulls the bottle of liquor from Hardin's hand. Hardin still hasn't spoken either. He's just staring at me like I'm a ghost, like I'm an already forgotten memory that he never expected to have to revisit.

I turn on my heel and push through anyone who gets in my path on my way out of hell. When I make it down one flight of stairs, I lean against the wall and slide down it. My ears are ringing and the weight of the last five minutes is crashing down on me, and I honestly don't know how I will make it out of this building.

I listen for the sound of boots slamming against the steel stairs and each silent minute cuts deeper than the last. He didn't even come after me, he let me see him that way and didn't bother to chase after me with an explanation.

I don't have any more tears to give him, not today, but it turns out that crying without tears is much more painful and impossible to control.

After all of this, all the fights, all the laughs, all the time spent together, this is how he choses to end it? This is how he tosses me to the side? He has that little of respect for me that he is getting high and letting other woman touch him and wear his clothing after doing god knows what with her? I can't even allow myself to indulge that thought, it will cripple me. I know what I saw but knowing and accepting are two different things.

I am good at making excuses for his behavior, it's a talent that I have mastered in the long months of our relationship and I have been loyal to those excuses to a fault, but now there is no excuse. Even the pain he feels from the betrayal of his mother and Christian doesn't give him a pass to hurt me this way. I have done nothing to him to warrant what he's doing right now. My only mistake was trying to be there for him and put up with his displaced anger for far too long.

The humiliation and pain is transforming into anger the longer I sit in this empty staircase. It's a heavy, thick, overbearing fucking anger and I'm done making excuses for him, I'm done letting him do this shit and letting it go with just a simple apology and promise to change.

No. Hell no.

I'm not going out without a fight. I refuse to walk away and let him think it's okay to treat people this way. He obviously has no regard for himself, or for me right now, and as the angry thoughts fill my head I can't stop my feet from stomping back up those shitty stairs and back to that hellhole of an apartment.

I don't bother attempting to knock, I push open the door and make my way back to the kitchen. My anger surges further when I find Hardin in the same exact spot, the whore still attached to his back.

"No one, man. She's just some random-" he is saying to Mark.

I can barely see straight, I am so angry. I interrupt him and grab the bottle of vodka from his hand and throw it against the wall. It shatters and the room falls silent. I feel detached from my body, like I'm watching an angry, outrageous version of myself losing her mind.

"What the fuck, Bambi?" Mark shouts.

I turn to him, "My name is Tessa!" I yell. Hardin's eyes close and I watch, waiting for him to speak up, to say anything.

"You didn't have to break the vodka!" Mark sarcastically remarks. He's too high to even care about the mess I made, apparently his only issue is the liquor spilt.

"I learned how to smash bottles against walls from the best," I glare at Hardin.  

"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend now," the woman latched to Hardin says. I look back and forth between Mark and the woman. There is an obvious resemblance and I've read that letter too many damn times to not know who she is.

"Leave it to Scott to bring a crazy ass American chick into my flat, throwing bottles and shit," Mark says, clearly amused.

"Don't," Hardin steps toward us and I give him my best poker face. My chest is rising and falling with deep, panicked, breaths but my face is a mask, a void of any emotion mask. Just like his.

"Who is this chick?" Mark asks Hardin as if I'm not standing there.

"I already told you." Hardin dismisses me again, not even having the balls to look at me while degrading me in front of a room full of people.

I've had enough. "What the hell is wrong with you? You think you can slum it here and smoke pot all day long to forget about your problems?" I scream. I know how crazy I am acting but for once, I couldn't care less what anyone thinks of me.

I don't give him a chance to answer before I continue, "you are so selfish! You think pushing me away and closing yourself off is good for me? You know damn well how this goes by now! You can't last without me, you'll be miserable and so will I. You aren't doing me any good by hurting me yet I find you like this?"

"You don't know what you're even talking about," Hardin says, his voice low and intimidating.

"I don't?" I throw my hands up, "she is wearing your fucking shirt!' I scream and the girl hops down from the counter, tugging the hem of Hardin's shirt down to cover her thighs. She's much smaller than me and the shirt looks gigantic on her. The image will be burned into my memory until my last day, I know it will. I can feel it burning now, my entire body is burning, on fire with rage and in this moment of pure, raw, fucking anger, it all clicks.

Everything makes sense to me now. My earlier thoughts regarding love and not giving up on the one you love, couldn't be further from the truth. I was wrong this entire time. When you love someone you don't let them destroy you along with themselves, you don't allow them to drag you through the mud. You try to help them, try to save them, but the moment that your love is one sided or selfish, you are a fool to keep trying. If I loved him, I wouldn't let him ruin me.

I have tried and tried with Hardin. I have given him chance after chance after chance and this time I thought everything would be fine. I actually thought this would work. I thought if I loved him enough, if I only tried harder, it could work and we could be happy.

"Why are you even here?" He asks me, interrupting my breakthrough.

"What, you thought I would let you get away with being a coward?" Behind the pain, the anger begins to sizzle, I'm terrified for it's departure but I almost welcome the resolve as it settles over me. For the last seven months, I would be weakened by Hardin's words and this cycle of rejection but now I see it for what is it.

Inevitable.

It's always been inevitable and I can't believe that it took me all this time to see that, to accept it.

"I'll give you one last chance to leave with me now and go back home but if I walk out of this door without you, that will be it." I tell him.

The smug look in his impaired eyes pushes me further over the edge.

"Thought so," I'm not even yelling anymore. There is no point, he isn't listening. He never has. 

"You know what you can have all of this, you can drink and smoke your fucking life away," I step closer, stopping only a few feet from him, "but this is all you will ever have so enjoy it while it lasts."

"I will," he responds, cutting through me. Again.

"So, if she isn't your girlfriend.." Mark speaks to Hardin, reminding me that we aren't alone in the room.

"I am no one's girlfriend," I snap. My attitude seems to spur him further, his smile grows.

"Good, it's settled then." Mark's hand moves to my back in an attempt to lead me back into the living room.

"Get off of her!" Hardin's hands push against Mark's back, not hard enough to knock him down but with enough force to push him away from me.

"Outside, now." Hardin snaps while walking past me through the living room and out of the door. I follow him out into the hallway and slam the door behind me.

"What the fuck was that?" He tugs at his hair, his temper rising.

"What was what? Me calling you out on your shit? You think you can just shove a plane ticket and a keychain into a suitcase and I'll go away?" I shove at his chest, pushing him against the wall. I almost apologize, I almost feel guilty for pushing him but when I look up into his dilated eyes, every trace of guilt dissolves. He reeks of pot and liquor, there is no hint of the Hardin I love.

"I'm so fucking lost in my own head right now that I can't think straight, let alone give you a fucking explanation for the thousandth god damn time!" He yells, slamming a fist into the cheap drywall, cracking it. It's a scene I have witnessed one too many times, this time will be the last.

"You didn't even try! I did nothing wrong!"

"What more do you need Tessa? Do you need me to fucking spell it for you? Get out of here, go back where you belong! You have no business here, you don't fit in here," by the time he gets to the last word his voice is neutral, soft even.

"Are you happy now? You win Hardin. You win yet again. You always do though, don't you?" I don't have any fight left in me.

He turns, looking me straight in the eyes and says, "You know that better than anyone, wouldn't you say?"

 ..

I don't know how I managed to make it to Heathrow and onto my flight in time but here I sit, next to an empty seat, with an empty mind, and an empty heart. I couldn't have been more wrong about Hardin and that really does just go to show that people can only change themselves, no matter how hard you try. They have to want it as bad as you do or there is no hope.

 It's impossible to change someone who has their mind set on who they are, you can't support them enough to make up for their low expectations, and you can't love them enough to make up for the hate they feel for themselves.

It's a losing battle and finally after all this time, I am ready to surrender.

..

(We are getting closer and closer to the end! I know you hate what is happening but what kind of book would this be if everything was hearts and flowers all the time? You can deny it now because you are mad at me (hopefully not, hopefully only the characters) if there were no pain and heartache, this book wouldn't be what it is. So breathe through the pain and stop sending me death threats :) I still love you all, even those of you who do that lol. Be mad at After Hardin, not me. He has a life of his own! ha. Ily all!