I threw my phone onto the floor, the device escaping the clutches of the death grip I had on it and landing face down. I heard a loud crunch, and immediately regretted my decision. I gripped fistfuls of my hair, tugging hard and dropping to my knees. My lips parted on a silent scream, my vocal chords straining to let the sound out to the ceiling. But I couldn't let him control my reaction.

I heard my phone beep with a notification. I backtracked from my mini-episode, scrambling for my phone desperately. It was mostly alright, just some glass chipped off the corners. I swiped open, opening our DMs a little too quickly.

Devon: "I'm not going to parrot the 'lets be friends' bullshit. I want this over so I can start a new life with Gigi. She's not as dramatic as you are, that's for sure."

Me: "You can't do this to me. It's me, Devon. I'm still your Izzy, god damn it. If you wanted to break up, you should've told me instead of cheating like a lying bastard."

Devon: "Proved my fucking point."

I launched my phone across the room, my tears running down my face and dragging my mascara down with it. I hit my fist against the tiled floor, hunching over the vinyl. It was almost reflective from the puddle of my tears at that point, and I could see my features contorted in the ugliest way I had ever seen. I heaved with sobs, watching what I felt play out before me live on the floor of my fucking kitchen.

After what felt like an hour of gasping for air and clawing at my throat, I pulled my sleeve over my left hand and rubbed the tiles clean. Then I rubbed my face with my right sleeve, the mascara coming away with the fabric. That's never going to wash out. I decided to shed the shirt and throw it right into the kitchen bin. No need for that.

I crawled over to where I had chucked my phone, determination fuelling my movement. I reached for my phone, unlocking it to see no new messages from him. I wrote one last text.

Me: "all i wanted was you. i know youll think of me whenever youre out with her"

I saw him beginning to type, but I blocked him before I could wait to see his response. I was done with moping over someone who couldn't see my worth. I. Was. Done.

"Bailey, come back to bed. Don't go." I kept my back turned towards her. I couldn't stand to see her face, the one I know so intimately. Right now, I imagined those perfect lips swollen from my touch, downturned at the edges. Those grey eyes that shone despite their drabness, unusually dimmed with the burden of emotion. All the muscles under her flesh contracting and loosening in complex ways to describe what she felt. Well, it was wasted on me.

I stood up from where I sat hunched over myself at the edge of the bed. This was just a quick fuck to satisfy our desires, nothing more. Though I could feel something tugging at me from within that said this was something more. Maybe it was the way I could feel her reach out with the same hands I was just holding onto. Maybe it was the soft sob I could hear coming from the mouth I was just attaching my own to. Or maybe it was the sudden silence that followed when I stole my hoodie back from her closet and found my jeans on the floor, then left without another look back.

I almost made it to my car before I heard the front door open and slam closed. I finally turned to face the girl I used to believe loved me. Or that I believe I used to love. The line's blurred, at this point. There is no distinction between the two. Only the remaining fact: I use her, and she uses me. And that's the way it's been for a while. The fleeting gift of love that once lived, died long ago.

She yanked the sleeve of my hoodie, pulling me closer and intertwining the slim fingers of her other hand with my roughened ones. "Please, Bailey. Stay. I love you." I immediately jerked my arm away from her, shoving her back lightly. I didn't want to hurt her, I just needed her to get off of me. I'd heard those words before too many times, from the same lips that used to harm and heal simultaneously. It's like when you repeat your own name a hundred times and it eventually loses its' meaning. It's just words with no sentiment behind them.

"You should know better by now. We don't do love, remember?" I muttered somewhat bitterly, recalling the agreement we made years ago. I don't know why I still come running back to her, or why she still comes running back to me. After all we'd done to one another, you'd think we'd be sick of it. If anything, we crave it more. I don't know why we're like this. Both fucked up, twisted people desiring heartbreak. Maybe that's why we're drawn to each other.

I left her standing on her driveway at six in the morning. I'll be back later. And I will hate every second of it.