𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐲 | ✓

40 (𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘗𝘖𝘝)

Words are like bullets.

Once the trigger is pulled, the bullet can't be held back, captured, or returned to its initial place. The same goes for words.

Once you voice them out, there's no way of undoing it.

Both leave their marks.

Both are remarkably fatal.

The only difference is, one causes immediate death, while the other is like a slow working poison.

When I shout those stupid, stupid words at Gracie, I'm stunned they left from me. For a second, I can't believe I'm the one who said that!

But as I look at Gracie... I see, for the first time, the resolve, the stubbornness, her astounding strength, all the qualities I've always admired her for, flicker and withering away.

Tears glaze her eyes. The sight hurts worse than being stabbed in the guts.

She backs away a step unsteadily.

Regret is a stupid thing. There's no way of showing it instantly, except with words... words that probably mean nothing to her right now. It can be shown by action too, but that takes time. And time is one thing I don't have right now.

I can see it, I'm losing her. From the way she backed away, from the way she's looking at me, from the way she's holding herself. I'm losing her.

Where are these stupid words now that I need them the most!

I want to tell her I'm sorry, that I'm an asshole, an idiot. I don't even know where that came from. That I didn't mean a single word. It was just an outburst in a moment of anger and frustration; she hurt me and for a split second I wanted her to feel as shitty as me.

I'm an asshole.

But my thoughts falter before reaching my tongue and I'm left gazing at her, unable to even move a muscle.

She looks away and she seems so small, so fucking fragile. I want to beg her to forget what I said, that she should know better than believe that shit, but for some unknown reason, I'm frozen.

"I guess you're right," she weakly says and she might as well had ripped out my heart.

"I'm sorry for everything," she adds, her voice breaking at its end. Without wasting another second, she turns and rushes out of the building.

No no no!

Fuck!

What have I done?

I stare at the doors for a moment after she disappears on the other side of them.

No no no. I can't let her go. Not like this. I'll beg her forgiveness. I have to fix this right now.

Miraculously, I manage to move and sprint out of the building, but I'm too late. Freezing rain hits me and I shout her name, ignoring the chill.

She doesn't stop.

Now I understand how it feels to want someone to stay but they hop on their car and leave. I did the same thing to her five years ago. I suppose we really are getting even.

I run to my car to chase her but just as I reach it, I realize my key is upstairs. I curse under my breath. From the corner of my eye, I catch Gracie's driver anxiously looking at the road she just sped down and his phone.

"What's wrong?" I shout over the steady beat of rain, getting heavier each second.

He turns to me, reluctantly after a second says, "Miss Stewart hasn't driven a car for over five years for some personal reasons. I was told not to let her drive alone, ever."