Harlow

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It’s just after seven in the evening. I’m standing outside of Miles’ apartment for the second time today, praying that he opens the door this time.

Today has been nearly impossible to get through. I’ve been trying to reach Miles since he ran out of my apartment last night, but have been unsuccessful up to this point. I’ve called, texted, shown up at his door. All of which has gotten me nowhere.

I’m worried about him to the point that I feel physically ill, and I know that the only thing that will make me feel better is seeing him.

He was a wreck when he left last night. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so distraught in my entire life. And while the whole ordeal was terrifying for me, my only real focus has been on Miles.

I’m not really sure what happened. He was tossing and turning in bed next to me. I turned on the bedside lamp and gently nudged his shoulder to wake him. And the next thing I knew, he was on top of me, his hands around my throat, and I couldn’t breathe. His eyes were open, but he wasn’t there; the vacant stare on his face a clear indicator of that.

I instinctively clawed at his arms trying to free myself, but he was solid on top of me. He was saying something but his words were jumbled, and in my panicked state, I couldn’t focus enough to put anything together. I could feel myself starting to lose consciousness the longer my airway was constricted. Spots filled my vision, and for a moment I truly believed I was going to die, but before I blacked out, Miles blinked and in an instant, his hands disappeared from my throat.

It was probably one of the scariest moments of my life, and yet when it was all said and done, it wasn’t me I was worried about.

Taking a deep breath in and letting it out slowly, I lift my hand and lightly rap on Miles’ door. At least thirty seconds pass, and I hear nothing inside the apartment. No movement, no attempt to answer the door. Nothing.

I adjust the infinity scarf around my neck, using it to hide the fingerprint bruises. It’s in the nineties today, and so humid the air feels thick around me. I’m sure my attire seems completely out of place, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t risk running into someone I know or worse – Miles seeing what he did to me.

I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that any of this actually happened. One minute I felt like I was living a fairytale and now it’s like I’ve been thrown into some terrible nightmare.

“Miles.” I knock again, a little louder this time. “Miles, I know you’re in there, and I’m not leaving until I see you,” I yell into the crack of the door like that will somehow make my words easier to hear inside the apartment.

I lift my hand to knock again right as the door jerks open without warning. I jump backward, startled by the sudden and unexpected movement before my eyes dart upward and find Miles’ face.

My stomach twists violently at the sight of him. His hair is standing up in every which way, and there are dark circles under both of his eyes. My gaze jumps from his shirtless torso to his fitted blue jeans that are unbuckled at the waist before finally noticing the half empty bottle of whiskey dangling from his fingers.

“Why are you here?” His voice is thick, his eyes distant. Like he’s looking through me, not at me.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” I start, unable to say more before he cuts in.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he slurs, clearly intoxicated.

“What is going on, Miles? Why haven’t you answered my calls or my texts?”

“Because I didn’t want to talk to you,” he bites harshly.

“Why? What did I do?” My voice goes up an octave as panic starts to rise in my chest.

“What did you do?” He lets his head fall back, a malicious laugh echoing from his chest. “You’re really fucking funny. You know that.” His head lulls forward, and his eyes go to the space behind me.

“Miles, what is going on?” I soften my approach, even more, reaching out to touch his forearm.

The instant the contact is made he rips his arm back as if I’ve just touched him with a hot branding iron.

“Don’t!” he bites out violently.

“Will you please talk to me? Let me come inside, and we can talk this out. About what happened last night. I’m not upset with you. I know you would never hurt me.”

“But I did fucking hurt you!” he explodes, rearing back and punching the open door so hard I swear there’s no way he didn’t break something.

“It wasn’t you,” I start, a clear shake in my voice.

“But it was me, Harlow. It was me.” He pounds on his chest, angry tears filling his eyes. “I could have fucking killed you.”

“But you didn’t.” I reach for him again.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” he screams, stumbling backward in the doorway.

I look from side to side, a little surprised that not a single neighbor has poked their head out to see what the commotion is all about.

“Miles, please, just let me come in, and we can talk this out.”

“There’s nothing to talk out. I knew better than to do this. I knew that pretending with you wouldn’t make it just all miraculously disappear.”

“You weren’t pretending. Don’t say that.”

“I was pretending, Harlow. I’ve been pretending for the last eight years. I’m fucked! Don’t you see that?”

“No, you aren’t.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know the things I’ve done. What more do I have to do to show you I’m not the guy you want me to be?”

“But you are that guy, Miles. One night doesn’t change that. I love you.”

“Don’t say that to me,” he grinds out.

“Don’t say what? I love you? Well newsflash, Miles, I do! I love you. And you love me.”

“No, I don’t.”

I take a full step back as if his words were a physical attack.

“Yes you do,” I croak, emotion rising in my throat. “And you are not fucked,” I insist, my own tears stinging the back of my eyes.

“But I am,” he insists, his head shaking back and forth slowly. “I’m so fucked up.”

I put my hands on both sides of his face and try to get him to focus on me. “Look at me,” I plead. “Miles, look at me,” I say more forcefully, surprised when he does as I ask and doesn’t immediately push me away. “Whatever this is, whatever is going on, we will figure it out.”

He wraps his hands around my forearms and stares at me for a long moment, his eyes darting to the scarf around my neck and then back up to my face.

“It’s over.”

Pulling my hands away from his face, he takes a full step backward into the apartment.

“Miles!” I cry.

“I’m sorry, Harlow. I can’t do this anymore. I should never  have done this with you. I’m sorry.”

I stick my foot in the doorway right as he attempts to close the door in my face, then push forward with all my might. It does me no good. Even in his drunken state, he’s still way too strong for me.

“Miles, please!” I push again, but the door doesn’t budge.

“Go home, Harlow.” He pulls the door open and steps directly into me, forcing me backward.

“You can’t do this to me. You can’t promise me the world and then rip it away for no reason.”

“For no reason?” Anger flares behind his eyes and he takes another step, forcing me further out into the hallway. “In case you need reminding, I almost killed you last night.”

“No, you didn’t,” I argue.

“Yes, I did,” he growls, fingering the scarf around my neck. “And for the record, I never promised you anything.”

I rear back, fear and sadness morphing into hurt and anger.

“So that’s how you want to play it?” I snip, my hands shaking violently as I clench them at my sides.

“I’m not playing anything. I told you it’s over. You’re the one who refuses to leave.”

“You want me to leave?” I square my shoulders and take a deep breath in through my nose, trying to muster every ounce of strength I have.

“I do,” he says, his expression hard and stoic.

Seconds ago he was on the verge of breaking down, and now he’s so cold that I can physically feel the chill coming off of him.

“Fine. I’ll leave. But don’t for one second think I’m ever coming back.”

“Good. That’s what I want.”

“Then you’ve got it.” I spin on my heel, making it all of two steps before turning back to Miles. “You wanna know what I think?” I ask, continuing before he can even think to answer. “I think you’re a coward. I think you’re so scared of letting someone in that you’d rather spend your life alone than share your burden with another person.”

“You can think whatever you want. It doesn’t change the fact that this is over.”

“No, it certainly doesn’t. Goodbye, Miles.” I whip back around and take off down the hallway, dipping into the stairwell moments later.

Tears stream down my face before I reach the parking lot, but somehow I manage to make it nearly a full block before completely melting down.

As if Mother Nature is feeling my mood, it begins to rain, the warm droplets of water mixing with my tears like the heavens are crying with me.

I know there are dark parts of Miles’ past that I still don’t know about. Things that prompted what happened last night and into today. I know there are things that he has seen and gone through that a normal person can’t even fathom, but that doesn’t excuse his behavior. It doesn’t make it okay for him to make me feel like I did something wrong or that I’m not good enough.

I spent years with a man who made me feel that way every single day. I promised myself the day I got out that I would never let someone make me feel that way again. And that’s a promise I intend to keep.