I HEAR those three little words at night when I sleep. I hear them in my dreams as I relive that night over and over again. Sometimes, I swear I can still feel his breath on my cheek when he leaned in close to whisper them in my ear. My heart still jumps at the memory, my palms still get sweaty.
Three little words that changed everything.
The passion that burned in his eyes as he stared at me on that dark street, flashing police lights bouncing off the houses, still makes my skin burn. The way his voice cracked as he spoke still makes my chest ache.
Three little words that broke my heart into a million sharp pieces. Three little words that hold so much weight, they’re almost suffocating.
I know what you’re thinking. I know exactly what three words you think I’m referring to, but you’re wrong. I wish on shooting stars to this day, wishing that night could have ended differently.
Instead, I was left with nothing but three little words and a broken heart.
I hate you.
This is our story, one that started in love but ended in hate.
That line between love and hate? I’m here to tell you that it’s not as thin as you’ve been told. It’s an impenetrable steel wall.
It doesn’t matter how many stars I wish on; Rafferty Blackwell will always hate me.
My lies made sure of it.
