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The rain on my windshield created a glare from the traffic passing by me, practically blinding me. I didn’t care though, I sort of hoped it would.

It was 3am, I wasn’t sure where I was leaving to, I had no set destination-I never do. Usually, spontaneous trips result from my happiness, but this one was sparked by the first tear to roll down my cheek.

A cigarette trembled in my left hand, I bought my first pack that day. My right hand was on the wheel, but I wouldn’t say I had control of the car. I didn’t care.

My chest felt like it was clenching, I pretend that it was the smoke, rather than the way he made me feel.

All I could repeat in my thoughts was; “He’s done it again, He’s done it again.” I told myself it would be the last time, again.

“This is the last time you’ll see me doing this.” I say, packing up every belonging of mine that remained in his apartment.

He only stood in the doorway, watching me do so, his eyes begging for sympathy. For once in my life; I had no sympathy because, I knew he wasn’t capable of empathy.

Mind tricks, doing anything to keep control. If he wasn’t able to have me anymore, he wanted to make sure no one else would be able to.

Six months ago, he told me to trust him.

My best friend told me he was crazy.

Now she’s laying in the sheets I bought.

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