"You can already tell where this is the part where someone or both of us fucked up in the relationship or someone knew it wasn't good for us. And this is the part where I tell you it was everything."

Mom had drove me this morning to the shrink, not trusting me that I would directly come to the building. Mrs. Forman has to be telling her about my stories or something because of the questions my mother has been asking me. The ones that mainly pop out of nowhere are if I have talked to Harry lately, which I always tell her that we broke up almost a year ago and he's on tour, last time I heard. As well as that, she always asks if I still love him, to which I cannot answer.

My father does not even bother on asking any questions. It will either lead up to anger in his veins or my eyes threatening with tears. He hasn't really had a reaction to the break-up except for the time of when he had heard about Harry's whereabouts and when he had cheated. Honestly, dad looked as if he could have killed Harry of when he heard about him cheating on me, and I wasn't the one to tell him of that terrible news; mom somehow found out about it.

"Carry on, please," Mrs. Forman hums and eagerly grabs the large notebook by her desk.

"Harry was offered a job in New York, the whole band was, and he told me at the last minute of when he was supposed to decide," my mind flickers to the situation, which seems like such a long time ago. "He told me that he didn't want to go, but the rest of the band was."

"Harry, it's your decision. I'm not stopping you," the tears begging to leave my eyes are finally hidden to where Harry cannot see them. He doesn't need to know that I don't want him to leave, obviously.

His face is twisted into a look of worry for me, and I know he knows that I won't be okay if he leaves. Well, honestly, that's what he thinks. I would just bury myself into working harder on my classes and writing as well. Virescent eyes continue to look at me blankly, as if my words do not take any effect on him. Ruby, chapped lips are pulled back into a state of biting the bottom one.

"I can't leave you," he complains, taking a few more steps toward me. "This is a permanent thing, Brooklyn, and you need to get that through your head. I cannot leave you for this."

"Why the hell do you have to be so late on telling me this?" A dry laugh erupts out of me as I ring my hand through the tangled blonde strands of mine.

Harry continues to tug at the chestnut roots of his hair, and I completely know that he is stressing over the decision. Hell, I would be too if I was in his position. He has to know a decision by tonight, and it is already seven at night. And if Harry does choose to go to New York, all the way across the opposite side of America, he has to leave by morning tomorrow.

"You know how late I am on everything," he chuckles, trying to get the tension out of the air. "I didn't want you to worry about however many days left if I did decide to go."

"You have to go," I state in an obvious manner. "The whole band is going, and you can't let them down. This has always been your dream!"

"And, I am guessing he did go, in the end?" Mrs. Forman asks as if it is a question, but it's true that she knows it is a statement. Of course Harry went.

"Yeah, he did. But, we tried to work it out. Harry would come back every few months of when he had these small little breaks, and everything would seem okay," a small smile makes its way across my face as I think of all the times Harry had come back, which seemed like an utter surprise.

"The breakup, how did that happen, though?"

Mrs. Forman is getting impatient, easily. I can tell because of the way her foot is repeatedly tapping against the scuffed wood and the way her eyes would twitch towards the door every few seconds. She's been wanting to know this every since I came through that damn building, and who wouldn't?

Just from thinking about the old situation, I can feel my guard being let down. It happened twice, two fucking times of Harry cheating on me, with the same damn woman. He had been staying with me in our old apartment while his band was on break. I got home from another day at work, but got off early because I hadn't been feeling well all the day.

And there it was, Jamie opening my door while I was almost walking in.

"Jamie?"

There is my old friend, one that I have not seen in a year after the whole tragic incident. Her dark hair is in a messy manner while her makeup looks as if she has sweated too many times at a club and had some fun times with a guy. By the way her eyes are widened to as big as they can get, it immediately clicks in my mind of what has happened.

Quickly moving her out of the way and slamming my apartment door, my eyes look everywhere to only find the green irises that I have found myself to be in love with. And everything that I see in them has disappeared and turned into a dark colour, one that tells me I have lost Harry completely.

"I'm done. I'm done with everything, Harry," I scowl and start to pace around him. "You know, I fucking thought you were better than this. A-and I come home to catch you sleeping around with her."

It's too late now to stop the tears from falling. Harry's crying too, his lip trembling harshly. He knows that I saw what happened, and with his bare chest and black boxers showing, it proves my statement to be true by his frazzled look.

"Brookl-"

"No!" A scream rattles through me, and I back away from Harry. "This isn't meant to be. None of it was, and I cannot believe how fucking stupid I was to give you another chance. I kept telling myself not to, because I knew what you were capable of and how naive I am, and I should have just gone with that instinct."

"I'm so sorry," is all he says, and Harry falls down onto his knees. "I'm stupid, Brooklyn, and I don't know what has gone through me. Please, just give-"

"No, never again," I spit, running into my bedroom to grab his items and walk back to where Harry is sobbing. "You're going to leave and never come back into my life, again. Go fuck Jamie, but if you ever do get settled down, make sure you treat them right, Harry."

"Baby, please don't do this."

Just by the pet name, I can feel myself wanting him. Wanting to let him back in and to feel loved again, but I know I can't. Our love is unhealthy.

"Do you even still love me, Harry?"

And it was in his silence that I heard all that I needed to It was in that moment that I realized that sometimes what is left unsaid says it all. I don't understand how a person can tell you so many lies and never feel bad about it. Harry did in that exact time, but all before, it never even crossed his mind. He did leave, but speechless. I had felt everything; he felt nothing.

Either Harry didn't love me anymore, or he didn't want to answer it because he knew the outcome. I was so deeply in love with him that Harry never cared to notice. He cared about other girls, and not the ones that never mattered. I loved him so much and he took it for granted. He went crying to me about his friends that didn't love him back while I lit myself on fire to keep him warm. And judging by the way he treated me on the near end, it was only a matter of time before my flame went out.

He left without another word said, grabbing his bag and walking out in only his black boxers. I stayed with so many Goddamn words running through me, and by the time I left the apartment, you could tell many things had been done. It was a wreck, as was Harry and I's love.

I had told myself that every morning, people get a chance to be different. They get a chance to change and to be better. Harry's past was his past, and he could leave it there and get on with the future part. That's why I had believed in his second chance, but in the end, he lost it as well as my forgiveness.

"It was just like that?"

A voice interrupts my trance, and I almost forget that I am still sitting in this session.

"Yeah," I mumble with a sniffle. "It was all that quick."

"Do you still love him?"

And here is the part of where I suck in a breath and let another tear slowly roll down my cheek.

"I loved him, but it was a rotten love. A love pushed well past its expiration date. It was ugly and sour and spiteful and disgusting. It was hopeless...it was unsalvageable. And we both got to the point where we both knew it was over but we played dumb, half in denial, half waiting for the other person to speak up, all while wondering: which could be worse? To be trash, or the one who takes out the trash? And in the end, it really didn't matter. It hurts all the same."