Travis P.O.V.

I screwed up.

I fucking screwed up.

It hurts so bad.

I look up in the mirror, my hands are resting on the sink in my bathroom. My eyes are red and puffy from crying. My knuckles are bleeding and bruised from hitting and punching the wall over and over again. 

Why can't I just tell her?

Why can't I just tell her I love her?

Why can't I just tell her what I'm so scared of?

Why am I still so afraid of it, even though it happened years ago?

A tear slips down my cheek again. I lift my arms and pull at the ends of my growing hair, I need a haircut, bad.

I slam one fist into the mirror and the glass cracks around my fist. I look at my broken self-reflection. Though it doesn't look disturbed, this is me. I am as broken as the mirror.

Not wanting to get sentimental, I walk out of my bathroom and flop back down on my bed.

I haven't been able to focus on anything really. 

I haven't gotten out of my house for the past 10 days.

I haven't answered my phone for the past 15 days, though I checked each time if it was her.

I haven't answered my front door, unless it was the food I ordered. Since I haven't cooked in over 2 weeks.

Long story short, I'm a mess.

I'm a mess without her.

My phone rings again. I've given up the hope that it is her. 

I check either way. 

'Idiot' calling, the display read.

Parker.

I can't do this anymore. I need to get my mind of her. She clearly isn't coming back and can't bother to call me.

Even though I know my reasoning is wrong, I couldn't care less right now. I need to get my mind of her.

When I lay in the bed at night, I can't sleep. I need to leave my light on, because I see her with me everytime it goes out. But it doesn't matter, every night I see her when I close my eyes. My body and bed betrays me and acts as if she is still there with me.

My mind conjures up images of her in my office, shower, bed, kitchen, living room. On the table, desk, couch, floor, kitchen counter. Of her bend over, beneath me, on me, next to me, against the wall.

Fuck.

I let out a deep breath, I need to get this under control.

No matter how often I tried, I can't get myself off. It seems as if, even though she isn't here anymore, she still holds all the power over me.

I'm just a puppet on her strings.

I hear pounding on the door, but I don't bother looking through the peeping-hole to see who it is. I didn't order food and if it would be her, she would knock soft and delicate. Or even just stand there for 20 minutes, contemplating if she made the right decision. I even checked in the beginning at least 10 times a day, if she was indeed standing there.

"TRAVIS FUCKING GRAYSON, I FUCKING KNOW YOU'RE THERE YOU FUCKING HERMIT, SO DON'T EVEN FUCKING TRY TO DENY IT. IF YOU HAVEN'T FUCKING GUESSED IT, I'M FUCKING PISSED OFF AT YOU, SO OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR, OR I FUCKING SWEAR I'LL KNOCK IT THE FUCK DOWN!!" 

Damn, he sure knows how to use 'fucking' as often as possible in a sentence.

I get off my bed, walk towards the hallway, but decide against it and flop down onto my couch. The couch where she was lying on. The couch where I want her to be every time I come home from work. *mental pause* When I actually go out to work again.

My gym could go a few weeks without me, my manager would take things over. But I know there will be a pile of bills that need my signature to be paid. 

I hear a weird sound, like something is being pushed to its limit. Then I hear a loud crash.

What the fuck?

I walk towards the hallway, not even bothering to walk faster than my normal 'I-am-moody-leave-me-the-fuck-alone-pace'. 

"Travviiss!!! My man! Good to see you!" Parker says happily, acting as if he didn't just actually break down my door or cursed the fuck out of me.

I roll my eyes.

"What do you want?" I ask him annoyed.

"I want you to get over her man. You are acting like a teenage girl, sulking over her bad boy." Parker says, probing his finger towards me in the air. "You need to get your head out of your ass and start living again."

"I'm living." I say, ignoring his first comment.

"No, you are alive. But you aren't living. You're worrying too much. You have been spending all of your time locked away from the outside world. What do you think she is doing right now?"

I think for a moment.

"Probably enjoying her life?" I ask more than say.

"No dude!" He says, "She is working somewhere else."

"No shit Sherlock, she quit, she needs a job to pay her bills."

"No, I mean she is working and I know where, and you aren't going to like it." Parker says, the last part of his sentence careful and softer.

"Parker," I say, "Why don't you come into the kitchen and I give you something to drink?"

"Finally! I thought you were gonna let me stand here forever."

I roll my eyes and walk in front of him, but he passes me, complaining I walk "too slow".

After Parker drank his glass of water, extremely slow might I add, he looked at me curiously.

"You don't want to know where she is working?"

I growl, "Of course I fucking want to know where she is working! You would've been kicked out of here by now if I didn't want to know!"

"Okay, okay," Parker raises his hands in a peace offering.

I look at him, waiting.

"Well..?" I urge him on.

"O yeah. She is working a few towns down the road. In a sort of stripclub." 

"WHAT THE FUCK?" I yell, slamming my fist on the table.

I lift Parker up by his collar and push him against the wall.

"Tell me you're lying!" 

"Dude calm down, I'm not lying."

"How do you know?" I ask him, not letting him go.

His face is turning slowly red, maybe I'm cutting off his air pipe, maybe not.

"Fucking hell, Travis, let go of me!"

"How do you know?" I ask, slamming his head into the wall behind him.

"A FRIEND! A friend saw her and recognised her from a picture I showed him of when she was in the club dancing."

I punch his jaw for taking that photo of her.

"You better the fuck delete that picture." I tell him.

"Relax bro, already did."

I reluctantly let go of him, still not 100% able to contain my anger.

"We need to get her out of there." I tell him.

"Dude, I get it. You still love her and now knowing where she is and what she is doing is making you go all cave-man shit and wanting to go and rescue her. But think about it, she hasn't reached out to you at all. And my friend said she looked happy and relaxed. You need to get your life back on track before you can go and find her." Parker tells me.

I look at him, like really look at him. Something isn't right. He never calls me 'bro' or 'dude' that often.

"Parker," I growl, "Are you fucking stoned right now?"

"Maybe..." He draws out.

"FUCKING HELL PARKER, HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW IF YOU'RE TELLING THE TRUTH?"

"Well, does it really matter? You just need to get your life back on track, regardless of what I'm telling you."

Fuck, I hate it when he is right, especially when he is stoned.

"Fuck, okay. I'll come back to work tomorrow. But you need to go home, and take a cab, we don't want you to end up in the gutter."

"Fine, bro, whatever, bro, anything for you, bro, love you, bro." Parker says, while walking out of my doorway. Since there isn't really a door anymore.

I roll my eyes and decide to call a repair service immediately.

Tomorrow.

Then I'll start getting my life back together, I'll forget her and when I'm ready, I'll deal with my pushed away feelings. Or not, we'll see.