Whatever reason to leave that I've had
My place was always beside you
And I wish I didn't need you so bad
Your face, just won't go away
Don't Wanna Lose You Now
The entire room was engulfed in darkness. On the floor, I was sitting quietly in a corner, by the front door. The blinds were tightly closed, but a single sliver of light escaped. It shone on my right foot, which I moved away, fearing that it might be seen by the person outside.
"Cassie, please, open up," I heard my boyfriend plead as he pounded on my front door. I sat, with my back on the wall, just a few feet from him. Tears were flowing freely down my face, and I was too weak to wipe them off.
"Cassie, I know you're in there. I saw your car ok? Let me in, you owe me an explanation."
I stared at the knob, tempted to open it. My arm stretched up and touched the cool metal, but refused to turn it.
"If you don't open this, Cassandra, I swear I'll break it down!" he cried from the other side.
I stood up, and couldn't hold it in anymore, "How dare you come here, Howie? I told you, we're over, so get away from me!" I shouted, with false anger.
"But why? I don't understand why you want me to leave," he sounded hurt, and I felt so awful for doing this to him.
"It's not your fault, Howie, ok?" I said softening my voice. I remembered the most hurtful phone call I've ever made in my life, just a few hours ago. He wasn't home, so I had to break it to him through his answering machine. The little beep signaled the time to start crushing his heart. I talked so fast, knowing that I could possibly break down any second. I thought he wouldn't get home for another week or two. I was wrong, he was back that night.
I heard him shifting angrily, outside. "Then what? Did you meet another guy?"
"No."
"What's wrong, Cas. Why won't you tell me?"
I gulped. My throat was raw from crying and I didn't have the energy to fight with him. "I'm sorry, How, it's just that you're...you're leaving again. I won't see you for another six months. I don't think I can handle this anymore. I need my freedom." I told him forcefully.
There was a pause outside, then he answered, "I thought you loved me..."
I started to sob, "I did, and I do now. But I can't go through with this anymore. It's too hard. I just want a regular boyfriend, Howie. You have to understand."
"I'm sorry, I don't" he replied gruffly, "You said you loved dating a Backstreet Boy."
I felt like such a hypocrite. With my voice shaking, I told him, "That was a long time ago, when the fame and the touring was fun and new. Now, it's just too hard sharing you with millions of other girls. Now, go away, please, " I begged. My little terrier, Munchkin, walked in the room and looked at me quizzically.
"I'm catching a flight in a few hours. Is this how you want to say goodbye?" he asked.
"Seeing you face to face is too hard." I said. Munchkin pressed her cool wet nose against my hand, as if sensing my pain. I reached over and hugged her. I remember Howie gave her to me as a birthday present. She was one of the many things I was thankful to him for.
"Well, goobye then, " he told me. In a whisper, I heard him add, "I love you baby."
I heard his footsteps trudge slowly down the patio steps. I buried my face in Munchkin's fur and muffled my sobs. I was so angry at myself for letting him walk away, but I was determined to end it all now, before it's too late for me to move on.
After a few minutes, I stood up shakily and walked to the door. I pressed my face against the door and peeked through the peephole. He was gone, finally. I opened the door slowly. Lying in front of me, was a single red rose, from one of his concerts probably. I picked it up and held it gently in my hand. It was typical of sweet Howie, I have dozens of other roses he gave me over the past two years. But they would never make up for his absence.
I heard tires screech in front of my house. I looked up, alarmed. The driver of the little black car stopped and got out to see what happened. I saw a figure lying on the pavement.
Oh my god...my worst nightmare is coming true.
I ran across the hundred feet to where he lay. I screamed at the driver to call for help. I sat down to examine him. Blood covered his shirt, and his eyes were barely open. I lifted his head and placed it on my lap.
"This is all my fault," I sobbed, "I'm so sorry Howie, I'm so sorry..."
I felt his agonizing breaths. He opened his eyes.
He slowly raised his arm and touched my face, wiping away the tears, "Don't cry, Cassandra. It's going to be alright," he promised.
