Hate MeA Story by Ghosta story i wrote for Dupree's contest, Hate Me.“Hate me so
you can finally See what’s good, for you…” -
Hate Me by Blue October It’s what I had to do. She was never going to get anywhere tied down to me, but she was
determined not to leave me behind. I did love her and she did love me. It was
true and deep. However, it was also the ten-ton weight that kept her from her
dreams. I wasn’t the one she needed beside her to get where she wanted to be "
where she needed and deserves to be in life. I was a ragtag man. Hair always a mess, never properly shaven,
dressed oddly, and saying the wrong things, I was not and am not what she
needed. I’ve never been the type of man to marry a woman like her. She’s always
been so talented, so kind, so loving… Her life would have " should have "
started much faster, much happier, had we never met. I don’t regret meeting
her. I don’t regret what I did to let her go. I only regret holding her back
this long " this far. We’d been together for six blissful months. I’d wanted to
propose any day, already thinking of how best to go about it. The very Saturday
night that I’d planned to ask her to be mine " forever " was the day she came
home to me in a sobbing fit. I’d held her for several hours while she sobbed and cried. I
stroked her hair, asking softly, “What’s wrong?” She looked up at me, with such sad eyes, and told me weakly, “I
got fired today. They said that I don’t have the right people around me " they wanted
me to break up with you!” Somehow, I’d seen this coming but I managed to keep the bitter
sadness from my voice. “Why?” “They said that if I ever became a big part of the show, having
a boyfriend that looks and acts like you would hold me back! The tabloids would
have a field day with Rebecca Sheer’s rag-tag boyfriend!” She cried into my
chest, asking with true confusion, “Why would that matter? How could they ask
me to do that?” “I don’t know,” I lied. I kept stroking her hair and offering
comfort to my heartbroken love. She’d always wanted to be an actress. She
wanted to become a bigger name than Angelina Jolie. Damn if she couldn’t do it;
I’d always known she could. After a bit, she kissed my lips and went to take a shower. I
smiled, took her in my arms, told her I loved her, and then informed her that I
would be out, taking a walk. As soon as she was in the shower, I grabbed my
coat and slipped into my shoes. For
some reason, I was drawn to look back at the flat she and I had been sharing
for the past two months. In such a short time, there were so many beautiful
memories. I could see us together all over the front room alone. My heart felt
set to break and I got the sudden feeling that I might not ever have a kiss
when I come through the door. I remembered every time I’d woken up to the smell
of pancakes and bacon. I remembered every coffee-heated three-am-conversation. I remembered each moment spent lying in her arms at night. I remembered all the things about her that irritated me to no
end. Then, at the end of my reminiscing, I remembered everything that
set my heart to burst with joy at the sight of her. Walking
aimlessly through the streets, I sank deep into my thoughts of the past six
months. I noticed every single thing that happened between the two of us. My
mind flashed to the men auditioning for a part in a sitcom, how they’d looked at
me when Rebecca brought me to the set. I remembered how the men hiring had
sneered and barely paid attention to her beautiful monologue after seeing the
way she was with me. I ruined her chances. I ruined her by being myself. We never fought much. We were both fairly laid back about almost
everything, but I could see the bead of resentment forming in her mind when I’d
take her to auditions " and she wouldn’t get them. We both knew it was because
they didn’t like the looks of her boyfriend. They all thought I’d only make her
look trashy in front of the tabloids " and that would look bad for their little
dramas and sitcoms. It matters the world to my Rebecca, though. I knew that I had to separate myself from her somehow, but I
didn’t have the heart to leave her on my own. I wanted to give her a better
chance " to free her from the bad-boy-a*****e who seemed to hold her back at
every turn of her life. I always seemed to be ruining her life, career, and
dreams. For all I wanted was her success, my being here only seemed to bring
her failure. I wanted her to have a man that would push her to the very heights
of happiness and help her reach the top of her dreams. Sadly, I knew I was not that man. I found myself in a bar with a bottle in front of me.
Gratefully, I took it and began to drink. Within a few hours, I had lost all control of myself. I didn’t
care. Rebecca had called seven times but I didn’t pick up the phone. I kept
drowning myself in bottle after bottle, until I was knocking them over with the
slightest movement of my arm. It was at that point that a decently pretty
redhead came up to me, flirting. Too drunk to care what I was doing, I flirted
back. Suddenly, we were kissing. Then I was in a car. At one point, I closed my eyes " and then I woke, I found myself
in a bed and the morning light was shining on my face. Blinking carefully, I
looked around. It wasn’t my flat. Rebecca wasn’t next to me. I started to sit
up but felt too hung over to do anything more than hide under the covers. I
found my phone on the bedside table and checked it, still hiding from the
bright sunlight shining through the window. I had ten missed calls and a voicemail. I hit talk and put the
phone to my ear. Rebecca’s voice was worried and panicked. She sounded so
loving and concerned; it broke my heart to think I’d done this to her. I
already caused her so much pain… and all while trying to give her joy. “Sweetheart, where are you? You left the house six hours ago and
you haven’t been back… I’m so scared. I keep thinking that something’s happened
to you. I get these images of you… Oh God, please; call me back. Please, baby,
call me. I’m so scared for you… Please, please… Be safe. I love you.” The voicemail ended and I sat up, ignoring the slamming headache
it gave me. I ignored the redheaded girl that came in with a cup of coffee for
me. I took it deafly, ignoring anything she might have said. I felt so sick
that I was numb to the core. My mind couldn’t process what I’d obviously done.
Why would I do this to her? Why would I go out and get drunk? Why would I sleep
with another woman? I loved Rebecca. I never wanted to hurt her! My entire hope
since meeting her was to only make her happy! While I was busy waging wars on
myself, she’d always tried to stop the fight. She never doubted my warped
opinions on things like suicidal hate. She made me compliment myself, when it
was way too hard to take… Now I had done this. Out of anything a boyfriend could do,
cheating on her was among the lowest of the low. The only possible redemption I
might have would be to drive so f*****g far away that I might never cross her
mind. What have I f*****g done? Numbly, I got dressed. The girl seemed to realize that I was in
the middle of some kind of breakdown and kept her distance, tossing me my keys
so I could get home. The drive home was murder. I kicked at the shadows in my mind
for every mistake I had made. My mind was going insane with the guilt and my
heart was breaking with what I’d have to do now " and that was to tell her. I
could never lie to her. It’s something she’d actually found to be endearing
about me; I always told the truth because I couldn’t find it in myself to lie.
The idea of how she might react only made the wrenching feeling in my chest all
the worse, almost until I could hardly breathe. I walked in the door hesitantly, but as soon as I shut it,
Rebecca was there. She ran at me and hugged me tight. She hammered me with
questions, looking angry and sad at the same time. Her eyes were hurt and
scared. I knew what she wanted. She wanted me to come up with a completely
rational reason. She wanted me to take her close to my chest and kiss her, to
tell her I loved her and that I would make it up to her. For a long minute, that’s all I wanted to do. Then, however, the
words blurted from my mouth before I could think. “I cheated on you.” She just stared for a minute, as if confused. Then she laughed,
teasing nervously, “That’s funny, sweetheart. Really, where were you?” “I cheated on you,” I repeated. She stared at me for a long
time, waiting for me to laugh. She started to see, I knew, that I wasn’t
kidding. Her face fell and I knew her heart was breaking. I saw her blue eyes
cry and I held her face in my hands. “I’m so sorry,” I tried to say. “Rebecca,
I love you. I’m so sorry.” She ripped my hands from her face and looked at me with such
pain. Her hand covered her mouth as if to stifle a scream or a sob… and then
she whispered, “How can you do this to me?” I shook my head, reaching for her as I tried desperately to
explain, to apologize " to make it all go away. “Rebecca, please, I was so
drunk. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even realize-” “Get out,” she said. “Rebecca,” I pleaded. “Please, listen to me.” “Get out!” Tears were slipping down her cheeks and she was
pointing for the door, shaking with the anger. In a few short seconds, my life
had been shattered. Everything I loved was gone. The woman I loved most was
looking at me with such disbelieving disgust that my heart broke on principle. “Rebecca, I love you.” “GET OUT! GET OUT!” She ran to the bedroom, screaming at me to
leave and sobbing through her hand. Frozen in the doorway, I wasn’t sure what else to do. So I left. I got home hours later, only to find her gone and half of her
clothes missing. There was a note on the bed that read, “I’m staying with my
sister for a few days. I can’t look at you right now. We’ll talk when I calm
down.” So I could only sit in front of the couch and blindly watch the
television, nursing bottle after bottle of rum. It was dark, save for the light
of the television in front of me. I didn’t think. I didn’t do anything except
sip from the bottle until it was empty, and then I’d reach into the case and
pop the cap off the next one. At some point, I found myself walking to my room. I saw myself,
as if I wasn’t really there, going into the closet and reach past all of her
shoes and some of my own belongings. There was a white shoe box on the back
floor, and I picked it up, opening it and taking out the revolver inside. After
it was loaded, I went to sit on the bed and dial Rebecca’s number. Then, I
heard my own voice speak when it went straight to voicemail. “You do whatever it takes in your heart to leave me behind. Hate
me today, hate me tomorrow. Hate me in ways hard to swallow. Hate me so you can
finally see what’s good for you.” Bang. © 2011 GhostAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on January 20, 2011 Last Updated on January 20, 2011 AuthorGhostNoWhereInteresting, WVAbouti'm a lot of things. it would be easier to tell you what i'm not. ... actually, that's a pretty impressive list too. just talk to me, okay? save us some time. (: oh, by the way? whatever you do. .. more..Writing
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