I shouldn't have come.
The thought echoed in my mind as I stood frozen in the middle of the party, the laughter and music swirling around me, but none of it registered. Not anymore. My vision blurred with tears I refused to let fall, my heart hammering in my chest. My 16th birthday party. The night that was supposed to be perfect. The night that was supposed to be about me, and yet here I was, surrounded by people I didn't care about, faking smiles and pretending that everything was fine.
Vincenzo.
His name flashed in my mind, unbidden, like a curse.
I had never imagined it would end like this. I had never imagined he'd be the one to destroy it all.
He was standing there, just a few feet away, laughing with some of his friends. That deep, throaty laugh I once loved, the one that always made me feel like he was the only one in the room who truly saw me. But now, as I watched him, it wasn't that laugh that caught my attention. No, it was the look he gave me when our eyes met—cold, distant, like I was some stranger. Like he didn't care about me anymore.
Maybe he never had.
It was like everything had suddenly shattered. All the promises, all the moments that had once felt so real, were now slipping away, and I didn't know how to stop it.
"Eliana," my best friend, Kate, called out to me from across the room, snapping me out of my trance. But I didn't want to talk to anyone. Not now. Not when the one person who mattered had just ripped my heart in half.
I made my way through the crowd, avoiding their eyes, my mind racing, my pulse quickening. I was looking for him. I needed to talk to him.
I didn't know how we'd gotten here. How Vincenzo, the guy who'd once been everything to me, the guy I'd laughed with, cried with, loved, could now make me feel so... empty.
I found him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a drink in his hand, chatting with a few of his buddies. He wasn't paying attention to me at first, but when he felt me step into the room, he turned slowly, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. His gaze was sharper than usual, colder.
"El," he said, almost casually, like he hadn't just completely abandoned me an hour ago, leaving me to deal with the mess of this party by myself. "What's up?"
I was shaking with anger, but I forced myself to stay calm. I had to stay calm. For him. For me. For everything.
"Don't act like nothing's wrong, Enzo," I said, my voice quieter than I wanted it to be. "What the hell is going on with you? You've been ignoring me all night."
He glanced at his friends, giving them a subtle nod, then turned back to me. "It's nothing, Eliana. Relax."
I could feel the weight of his words hit me like a slap to the face. Nothing. Just like that. He didn't care. He didn't give a damn about the fact that this was supposed to be my night. He didn't care that I was standing there, feeling like I was about to crumble into dust.
"You're unbelievable," I hissed, the hurt and frustration bubbling to the surface. I could feel my breath quicken. "You promised me, Vincenzo. You promised me you wouldn't pull this s**t again."
His jaw tightened, but he didn't respond right away. The silence between us grew, thick and suffocating. His eyes softened, and I could see a flicker of something, something that made my heart ache. Regret? No. It wasn't regret. It was something else—something colder.
"Maybe it's you who's acting like everything is perfect when it's not," he said quietly, almost to himself. His voice was soft but laced with anger. "Maybe it's you who can't handle the truth."
I felt my chest tighten, my breath catching in my throat. "The truth?" I repeated, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "The truth is you've been ignoring me for weeks now. The truth is that I don't even know who you are anymore, Vincenzo. You don't care. You never did."
His eyes flashed, and in that moment, it was like all the years of friendship, all the moments we'd shared, vanished into thin air.
He stepped closer, the heat of his body radiating toward me, but instead of making me feel safe, it made me feel... suffocated.
"You don't know what you're talking about," he growled, his voice low, dark. "You think you know me, but you don't."
I stared up at him, my heart thudding in my chest. "Then what is this?" I whispered, the words coming out as a challenge. "What the hell is this, Vincenzo?"
He took another step closer, his hand brushing my arm as he leaned in, his face inches from mine. The scent of his cologne, familiar and intoxicating, filled my senses, but I couldn't let myself be swept up in it. Not now. Not after everything.
"You want the truth?" he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. "Fine. Here's the truth. I'm done with you. Done pretending. Done with this—us."
The words hit me like a slap. I recoiled, stepping back, my heart dropping into my stomach. The tears I'd been holding back for so long suddenly broke free, and before I knew it, I was sobbing in front of him, my body shaking, my hands pressed against my face.
"No, V. No! You're not done with me." My voice trembled, barely a whisper, but the anger in it was still there. "You can't just walk away. You can't—"
But he wasn't listening. He turned, his back to me, his words like a dagger to my chest.
"I already have."
**
A Word
It's a single distinct meaningful element of speech or writing, used with others to form a sentence; everyone uses it to say something, to comment on something, to over smart someone
People say actions speak louder than words, but I don't agree with that statement. A single word can speak louder than an entire phrase, than your actions. They always say you can speak up whenever you want, whatever you want- you don't pay to speak up.
But with a single yes, you can build an entire state, and with a single no, you can get destroyed and slip six feet underground
Friend
It's a word that people use to label their relationship. You use it to become close to someone or to use someone, to trick them and break them
Birthday
Another word used to describe a day that comes once a year, a day full of celebration and smiles, partying and drinking, laughter and games. The day everyone waits just to be able to reach the age of driving, drinking-even if you were doing it when you're underage, you still want to reach that age
Heartbroken
A word. A feeling. An explosion
It would take me thousands of pages to explain it, yet I would never get it right.
I take a deep breath and tighten my arms around myself as I stare through the window, watching the snowflakes flying all the way down, forming piles of ice covering every street, every road and every house rooftop. I bite my lips, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes as I breathe out fogging the window
Three phases. There are three phases to feel completely heartbroken.
The first one is the most painful, where you excuse or try to make up a reason after finding out that that closest person to you has betrayed you or you have lost the closest person that you trust with your life. The resistance
The second is when you just can't do it, the headaches, the overthinking, the nightmares. The realization
The third phase is happiness. The fake happiness. Those fake smiles you flash, the fake laughter that leaves a bad taste in your mouth, the sparkling eyes that are covered up with your tears holding them all the time. The reality
All of this can happen because of a single word.
I write. I always write. Meaningful words, meaningless words, any words - But as long as I'm writing I don't care what it is
You may paint to throw out your feelings, you may workout, sing, dance, talk in front of a mirror, eat, curse - We all do something at one point to explode, and for that, I write. No one gets me, so I write. No one understands me, so I write. No one listens to me, so I write
I write, I write, I write
And the only word that I keep writing is-
I'm Hurt