The stale air does nothing to brighten my mood.

Nothing can bring me out of the state I'm in.

I gave my heart and it got trampled on. Now I feel disenfranchised, used, and abused.

The pain won't go away. I've tried drinking a bottle of wine, taking a bath, and even running away to this one small motel at the outskirts of town.

Nothing helps.

When I shut my eyes, all I see is him. When I open my eyes, all I dream of is him. There's nothing anyone can say or do to take away my pain. It's always there.

And most of all, I feel as though I've been taken advantage of. I dared to put my heart out there. I dared to trust. And look what happened.

I thinking of myself as weak—but that’s not who I really am. He stole not only my heart, but also my identity. I no longer know myself.

A knock on the door startles me.

I go to the window and peek out between the blinds to see that it's only my pizza delivery.

Damn. I should've remembered that.

I pull up the hood of my sweatshirt so that I'm somewhat unrecognizable.

What I did to Marcus's bank, Pinnacle Financial Group, has made the national news. It's the biggest bank in the country, so I wasn't expecting otherwise. But aside from that, because the bank is so big, the whole country's financial status has been put in jeopardy.

This is why I've been in hiding at this seedy motel somewhere off the highway for the past couple days.

I open the door, push some cash into the deliveryman's hand, grab the pizza, and shut the door in one fell swoop.

I don't want to see anybody. I just want to be alone, to console myself. It's not like I have friends or family to lean on. Times like this remind me why I do what I do.

You can't trust anybody in this world.

I've learned that the hard way too many times. This last instance with Marcus was just the icing on the cake.

I let a hot guy sweep me off my feet and I forgot that I don’t depend on anybody. I don't let anybody in. I wasn't careful, and now look at the situation I'm in.

The motel has peeling wallpaper and lamps from the 1970s. The little box TV rarely works and the walls are so paper thin that I can hear most of what goes on next door.

I've come to know my neighbors so well that I know everything they fight about and that they have mundane sex.

My only consolation here is that I have my laptop. At least this way, I can continue hacking, and I can read the news and stay connected.

Luckily, my time here is almost done. I can't stay in one place too long. I plan on making my way down the road. Maybe I'll go west. With my skills, it’ll be easy to create a new life anywhere.

I can become a different person. I can erase my old identity and just morph into somebody else. At least, that’s the plan.

But first, I need the news to die down enough so that I'm not recognizable in the streets. The last thing I need is to go to prison. That might be harder to break out of than just the local jail.

And then I find myself thinking mostly about Marcus. I wonder if he is so angry at me that he wants to smash a wall or something. I wonder if I've ruined his business so badly that can never recover. I wonder if he understands why I did this.

I watch the news online and, after a couple of days, a bank representative releases a statement. She tells the media that they have no knowledge as to who did this and why it was done, but that they're doing their best to capture the culprit.

This surprises me. Marcus knows I did it. He should've told the police about me.

That's why I've been in hiding. But instead, the company says they know nothing. What is that about?

I'm resigned to my fate—that I have to leave New York City. I’ll miss this place, but I know that I can be myself anywhere.

All I need is a computer and a bed, and I'm good.

For the next few days, I watch a lot of news coming out about the bank changing its policy, as well as its regulations for the employees.

They lower the requirements for small businesses to start a loan. They give more donations to charitable institutions, and the laid-off employees are hired back.

This turn of events makes me feel optimistic for the future of the employees of the bank. Maybe other banks will follow suit and change will finally be made.

In truth, I don't know why the bank has rescinded its previous policies, but I don't care. I'm just happy that I'm starting to see some change—any change.

And as for me, I just want to stay hidden. My heart is broken after knowing that Marcus deceived me for such a long time. I feel like a hermit, and I never want to show my face in public again.

I've made so many bad decisions in the past couple of weeks. Usually, I have my life together. Usually, I don't trust anyone and that's why my life wasn’t a mess.

But somehow, I allowed myself to get swept up in one man—a man who was my enemy all along.

The constant ache in my chest is enough to remind me every moment how much love can hurt. I never should've been with him. I was naïve. I blame myself.

But that doesn't make the pain go away. Some nights, it feels like my chest is going to split into two. That's how bad it hurts.

I sleep a lot and I eat and I do a couple small hacking jobs. But mostly that's it. For two weeks, I'm holed up in this stinking motel room.

Just as I'm getting ready to make my next move, just as I'm getting ready to leave this place and to start anew, I see a live TV show where Marcus is a guest.

I don't want to watch it. I shouldn't watch it. But I can't turn my eyes away because I just need to see him.

It fills a hole in my heart, makes it stop hurting for once.

I know I'm being indulgent and that I should hold back, but seeing his face is the healing balm I've needed all these weeks.

I watch attentively as Marcus tells the host that someone made him realize the harsh realities of life. He admits that, before this happened, he was superficial—that he was just seeing the partial side of living.

He tells the host, "I feel the need now to help people, to know that I'm making a difference in their lives. There are people out there suffering. There are people in this city who are living in unbearable conditions because they just don't have the resources. What's the point of having money if you can't use it to help people?"

The host is astonished. I am astonished. And I'm sure the world is watching, too.

Tears stream down my face. I wonder if maybe I made the tiniest of difference in Marcus's life.

Maybe, at least, that part of our relationship was not fake. Maybe seeing those poor people in the slums of the city made him understand why I did what I did.

The host asks him, "So, where is that person today—that person who inspired you?"

Marcus looks down, a frown on his face. He looks at the host and says, "She's gone now, but I hope that she will come back one day because I miss her so much."

I pause and hit the rewind button. I listen to the statement over and over again.

Can it be true? Does Marcus miss me? And does he regret all that happened?

I put my heart out there and it got crushed. Dare I hope it can be put back together by the same man who broke it in the first place?

Seeing him on TV and hearing those words offer me the smallest glimpse of hope. It's something that I thought would never happen. The thought of him—and of this being real—does something to alleviate my pain. At last, I can breathe again.

I don't know enough about love to know the answer right now. But what I do know is that Marcus put himself out there, on TV, in front of everyone and asked me to come home.