Chapter 8 I Don't Want To Wake Up

Tatiana's Point Of View

As the memories flood in, so too does the anger. It seethes beneath my skin, a fiery counterpart to the cold that envelops me. I think of all the plans Scott and I made, the future we envisioned together, and how Katrina had been there, smiling and encouraging. Was she plotting even then? Was every kind word, every gesture of support, a lie designed to keep me close, unsuspecting of the knife poised to strike at my back?

The laughter we shared, the nights we danced away without a care, now mock me with their memory. "I trusted you both so completely," I speak into the void, my words washed away by the relentless downpour. "You were my world, my everything. How could you shatter it all with such cruelty?"

With each remembered betrayal, the fury builds, mingling with the sorrow until I can't distinguish where one ends and the other begins. I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms, the physical pain a mere echo of the emotional torment. "You are heartless, both of you!" I scream into the storm, uncaring who hears. My voice breaks, rough with grief and rage. "I hope you find misery together! I hope you never forget what you've done!"

The happy memories now feel like a cruel joke, a bitter reminder of everything I've lost. The plans for the future, the intimacy of shared secrets, all now tainted, corrupted by the truth of their betrayal. I curse them, curse their deceit, and curse myself for being so naive. As I walk, each step takes me further from who I once was, from the life I once lived. I am alone, utterly and profoundly, with only my broken heart and the cold rain as companions.

The realization hits me hard, nearly buckling my knees. The future I envisioned is gone, vanished like smoke. There is nothing left but to rebuild, to try to find a way forward through this maze of pain and betrayal. But even as I ponder this, I know I will never be the same. The innocence I once carried, the belief in love and friendship-shattered, irrevocably broken.

How long I walked, I couldn't say. The night wore on, each moment stretching into eternity. I was lost, not just in the city, but within myself. The woman who had once had dreams, hopes, a future, felt like a distant memory, a foolish ghost who hadn't known how harsh the world could be.

I walk on, my tears mingling with the rain, my sobs a silent accompaniment to the patter of the storm. I am changed, transformed by betrayal, and though the path forward is obscured by the downpour and my clouded tears, I know I must continue. For even through the pain, a stubborn part of me yearns to survive, to emerge from this night not unscarred, but perhaps, in time, stronger.

With each step, my resolve wavers beneath the weight of my grief, my soul laid bare to the merciless downpour that offers no respite from my pain. The icy raindrops sting my skin, each one a sharp reminder of the cruel reality that now engulfs me. My heart feels as though it's being squeezed tight, each throb a pulse of excruciating pain that radiates throughout my body. How did everything go so wrong? How did I end up here, in the middle of the road, with my bare feet numb against the cold, wet asphalt?

The shock of the cold ground barely registers. My mind is too consumed with the shattering betrayal. Scott, the man I loved, the man I was supposed to marry, has discarded me as if our years together meant nothing. And Katrina, my closest friend, my confidante-how could she? The scenes keep replaying in my mind like a horrifying loop. Scott's cold, indifferent eyes, Katrina's smug smirk. It's too much to bear.

"I was a fool," I whisper to myself, the words lost in the sound of the rain. The sense of betrayal gnaws at me, hollowing out my chest until I feel nothing but emptiness. A chill seeps into my bones, yet it's nothing compared to the coldness I feel inside. I can barely recall leaving the villa, my mind a haze of anger and sorrow. Now here I am, walking without direction, without purpose, driven only by the need to escape the pain that consumes me.

My thoughts spiral, uncontrollable and dark. "Why wasn't I enough? What did I do to deserve this?" The questions pound in my head, relentless and unforgiving. No answers come, only more pain, more confusion. I'm lost in a torrent of grief, each memory of Scott and Katrina a blade that slices through the fragile threads of my composure.

The realization that I am barefoot strikes me, but it doesn't matter. Nothing does anymore. The physical discomfort is trivial compared to the agony that wracks my soul. I should be scared, walking alone in the middle of the road in such vulnerable condition, but fear is a distant emotion, overshadowed by a much deeper despair. "Let it end," I find myself thinking. "Let this pain end."

The rain intensifies, as if mirroring my turmoil. Cars pass by, their headlights a blurry haze through my tear-filled eyes. I don't flinch, even as they honk, even as the bright lights momentarily blind me. What does it matter if one of them hits me? Perhaps it would be a relief, an end to this unbearable pain.

Each memory of happier times now feels like a cruel joke. The trips we took, the quiet evenings at home, the plans we made-all lies, all shams. "How could you throw us away?" I scream into the rain, my voice cracking. There is no answer, only the sound of another car passing dangerously close.

I realize I'm crying, the tears indistinguishable from the rain streaming down my face. My body trembles, not just from the cold, but from the sheer force of my sobs. The despair is overwhelming, a physical pain that demands to be felt in its entirety. "I don't want to feel anymore," I sob, the words catching in my throat. "I don't want to remember."

I keep walking, the numbness in my feet spreading, a reflection of the numbness spreading through my heart. Each step is mechanical, a forced movement away from a life that no longer exists. I don't know where I'm going, and I don't care. The rain, the cold, the pain-it's all the same now. Just endless, just unbearable, just nothing.

As I trudge forward, each step heavier than the last, the night engulfs me. The rain continues its relentless assault, the droplets mingling with my tears, blurring my vision and drenching my soul in icy despair. My thoughts are scattered, frayed at the edges, as the harsh reality of betrayal and abandonment consumes me. Inside, a storm rages-a tumultuous clash of heartbreak and humiliation. Scott's words echo in my mind, cruel and unyielding, slicing through the last tendrils of hope I clung to. Katrina's laughter, sharp and mocking, plays on a loop, reminding me of my naivety.

"Why did I trust so completely?" I ask myself, the internal monologue louder than the storm around me. "Why did I give them the power to destroy me?" The questions churn inside me, a whirlpool of doubt and self-reproach. I gave my heart, my trust, my future to Scott, and in return, he handed me ruin without a second thought. Katrina, who I treated like a sister, betrayed me with a smile. The sting of their treachery is more piercing than the cold wind that cuts through my soaked clothes.

With each step, the pain in my heart syncs with the aching in my limbs. I've walked so far, so aimlessly, that my entire body protests each movement. But what does it matter? Pain is my constant companion now, the only thing that feels real in this surreal nightmare. The darkness around me is a comfort, the only thing that truly understands the depth of my sorrow.

As I continue walking, the world begins to spin. The edges of my vision darken, not just from the night but from the overwhelming fatigue and the bone-deep cold that has taken hold of me. I'm dizzy, disoriented, but the physical discomfort is almost welcome. It's a distraction from the unbearable weight crushing my chest.

"I don't want to wake up," I murmur, the words a vapor in the cold air. "Please, just let it end." The thought of slipping away, of escaping the agony, is tantalizing. The idea of never having to face another day filled with memories of what I've lost, of never having to look into the eyes of those who betrayed me, brings a perverse sort of peace.

My steps falter, and I stagger, catching myself before I fall. But why do I bother? Falling might be easier, letting go completely, succumbing to the darkness that beckons. I'm so tired-tired of crying, tired of hurting, tired of being. The rain pounds harder, as if urging me to give up, to let it wash me away into oblivion.

I stop walking, my breaths short and ragged, my heart pounding erratically in my chest. I close my eyes, letting the rain beat down on my face, mixing with my tears. "Is this what rock bottom feels like?" I ask the empty night. No answer comes, just the howl of the wind and the relentless patter of rain.

My legs buckle, and I slowly sink to the ground, the cold mud seeping through my clothes. I lean back, my energy spent, my will shattered. As my consciousness slips, the last thought I cling to is a hope-a dark, desperate hope-that I won't wake up, that I'll be freed from this torment. I surrender to the darkness, my pleas for relief drowned out by the deafening roar of my anguish, and the world fades away into nothing.