"Liam, please don't go!"
This echoes through the hollow halls. All it does is prove that he's really leaving. If he isn't already gone, actually. My heart jumps at the sound of his footsteps. Lumbering, angry. He doesn't like what's been happening. He's over it, actually. But if he could just give me one more chance.... Just one more. I swear I wouldn't blow it. I love him more than anything. Anything.... Right?
"I swear I'll quit! Immediately. Just please don't go, Liam! Please!" I cry out. My hands pound the wooden floors of our -my- apartment.
He stops for a second. I here him coming towards me, quickly, too. I can't make out whether or not his footsteps are angry or not, I'm sobbing too hard. My tears spill out of my eyes, angry torrents that refuse to stop flowing. Liam looks at me through the doorway. Pity is all I can see on his face. That and regret. I know what he regrets, too. He regrets ever falling in love with me.
"I'm sorry, Quinn. I just can't trust you." His voice is like lead. Somber.
It's all I can do to keep myself from flinging my body at him and holding on to his leg like a young child. "Liam, please believe me! You mean the whole world to me!"
"Then why the fuck did pot come first?" he asked me. He's about ready to cry, too.
With that he leaves. He leaves me here to face my demons, to face this empty goddamn apartment all alone. And this is when the true breakdown begins.
So perhaps this isn't the real beginning. The real beginning was two years ago, when modeling became tough, and I had to get skinnier. Fast.
I stopped eating as much as I could handle, and I worked out all the time. But then I met Shayna, another model, and she introduced me into the world of pot. It worked, too. Did the job effectively without getting me hooked for the longest time. Plus the feeling of being high wasn't too bad, either. It was more like an added bonus. Some little incentive for destroying my body.
But then I did get hooked. I needed it just to survive. At first I could hardly smoke any, but then it got to bigger portions each time. Finally at one point I was smoking an ounce and a half or two a day. Even still, Liam never found out.
Until Laila discovered the pot in my car compartment. She was looking for my lighter so she could use it for her cigarettes. She didn't know I smoked pot to stay skinny for my job, and she went ape-shit. Told Liam, and he flipped, too. Both of them said that I needed help. But I refused. Said I was perfectly fine, and that this did no more damage than Laila smoking her cigarettes and Liam drinking.
Yet they argued with me. They said that cigarettes and alcohol aren't illegal; pot, clearly, is. They said that I was taking it too far, and that I was perfect the way I am. But I told them that the way I am is smoking pot.
Liam had forced me to promise him that I would stop smoking the shit. He took my stash away from me and dumped it down the toilet. And he said he would stop drinking, too, if I stopped pot.
Only I didn't keep my end of the deal. He caught me smoking it in an alley before my photoshoot with some magazine that I can't honestly remember the name of. But he didn't say anything about it until he got home later that night. And that's how we ended up here, me screaming and crying at three in the morning. Him drunk out of his mind. Me stoned. Neither of us wanting to do this, but him still doing it anyways.
I know, I did this to myself. But I had to. It keeps me sane, keeps me skinny. So long as I'm skinny, I'm pretty. And when I'm pretty, I can model, so I have money then, too. Only the money fromt hat goes to buy more pot and pay the bills. Oh well. I never liked partying, and I don't eat much anyways. It's okay. I'm okay.
Silently as I wipe the remaining tears from under my eyes I tell myself that I can quit. And that Liam will come back after work tomorrow, as though nothing had ever really happened. Once that happens I'll go cold turkey, and we'll be happy again. It will all go back to normal. Back to perfection.
Yet somewhere deep in my heart I know that it won't really happen all like that. I won't be able to do cold turkey without struggle.... And I can't even possibly guarantee that Liam will ever come back. But God, do I pray he does. Please.
Still, I tell myself that it will all work out. There's truly no such thing as life without Liam for me, and I know he loves me, too. He can't just pretend that he never loved me. We've been together for five years, since our senior year of high school. Some one you love can't just leave after all of that....