I would very much appreciate it if you read this. Kind of scary I guess.
The tears roll down my cheeks and I try to keep quiet. I look through the holes in my closet door and god do I just want to leave. I know he'll find me in here. I let out a small whimper when he walked into the door. There he was, on his perfect porcelain pedistal. Looking as gorgeous as ever and it's taking all of my strength not to run out and hug him and tell him to make it all go away. He must have heard me because now he's walking towards me. I put my head on my knees and sob quietly. He's opening the door and I'm praying for him to just go away. He put his arm around me and god do I just want to tell him to leave me be, but no. He has to be there to save me as always. Now he's got my face in his hands and my makeup is running down my face and I bet I look like a complete wreck but he doesn't care, he still holds me. I start to feel ok but then the sudden realization hits me, and I look over. He's not there. No one is. I must have imagined it, thank god. The tears come faster as the nights events played back in my head. Me going out, him staying home. Him saying he loves me, me brushing it off like nothing. Me partying. Me drinking, someone must have slipped something in my drink because now I feel dizzy. Me having sex with a random stranger. Me coming home to an empty house. I look around, no sign of him. thud thud thud What is that? thud thud thud It's probably nothing. I look around the house, searching every crevice and nook I can think of. The bathroom's clear, so is the kitchen and the living room. He must have gone to sleep. I walk up the stairs and the small thuds now turn into louder more clearer bangs. I walk into the bedroom. All of the lights are off. He's just sleeping. Time to make my journey across the wall to the lamp switch. I run my hand along the wall. I just bumped into something, it's probably nothing. He probably hung his clothes up or something. I feel lamp and switch it on. There he is. But he's not sleeping, oh god was I wrong. He's not sleeping. He's hanging from our fan, face purple, chocolate eyes bulging out of his head. I scream out of instinct and back up, tripping over dirty clothes. I have tears running down my face and I realize that this has happened before. I know this has happened before. I run to the closet and shut it tight. Maybe if I'm quiet enough this time he won't hear me. Maybe this time he'll stay dead.