Hate Me

a 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.

Author's Note

IGNORE RANDOM " IN THE TEXT. WRITERSCAFE REPLACES - WITH " SO DON'T TELL ME ABOUT THEM. I KNOW.

Furthermore... I have no idea how I made myself get this depressive. But this is pretty sad. XD

Reviews

[0_o Abbie]

ha ha! I'm in the same contest! YAY! Loved yours it's really cool. I like how you set it up. Really nice. May the best man (or woman as it is) win! :D