Breaking the Girl and Eager to Please by Kim Corum

Author:Kim Corum [Corum, Kim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Abernathy and Monroe

Run, run, run.

I wasn’t running home to my mother. I wasn’t running anymore. I didn’t have anywhere to go. I had never felt better.

I’d never felt worse. I wandered around, driving for endless hours, endless nights, never sleeping, barely eating enough to sustain me. I stayed in cheap hotels just long enough to take a shower and rest then I ran again, running so much I eventually found myself in a circle, circling New Orleans, circling him.

Sometimes, late at night, I could hear him calling me. From far away, I could hear his sweet voice, telling me everything will be fine, good, better than it ever was before. I wanted to run and find that voice, but I didn’t. I didn’t need it anymore. I wanted it, but that’s another matter.

I told myself to stop. To stop loving him. To turn it off. It was over. It had to be over. Nothing ever lasted and this couldn’t last either. I had to leave. I had to! I couldn’t go back.

Why?

I asked myself that over and over. Why? Why not return to him? Why not? Why was I running in the first place?

I knew why. I was afraid. I was afraid, not of Frank, but of his love. It was terrifying to me, his loving me. I was terrified I couldn’t return it. I didn’t know if I had it in me to love him as he loved me. I just figured that it couldn’t last, the infatuation, the love, the passion. And if I gave it back, what if he took it away? What would I do then? I’d crumble. That’s what I would do. I’d crumble. And I was too strong to crumble. No one had ever gotten the best of me and I didn’t want to start that now.

But it was lasting. The love I had for him was lasting. It wasn’t going away. It was tormenting me to know what I had left behind. What I had given up.

But I couldn’t go back. There was too much there. Too much. It was too much.

A week passed. A lonely, long week. One week. Only one week and I couldn’t take it anymore. I told myself to take it, to let it go, but I kept hearing his voice, sometimes coming at me in a dream, telling me to come home to him. That voice broke me. It carried me home to him. It was my saving grace and my prison. That voice, his voice, which was his love, which I needed, which I told myself I didn’t need, that I couldn’t need. That I ran from, which I was now running back to.

I ran to it, to his voice, so far away and to him. I ran all the way home, crying, hoping, praying he would be waiting. And he was. He was waiting, his arms spread open. He kissed me passionately, chaining me to him and never letting me go. And I never wanted to be let go again.

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