the first of many confessions

Really, the beginning took place somewhere in that last fight- with just me and him. Something in the harsh tone of his voice found it's way into my head, and like a pesky fly it buzzed continuously until it was loud enough to erupt into a full blown-

"I HATE YOU!!"

Of course I didn't mean it; I loved him too much. But there was just too much going on, and after years of bottling everything up I absolutely needed to release it. And so repeatedly I screamed, "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!", only to raise his anger as well. 

Maybe it wasn't one of those violent raging fights you see on TV, with fists flying and blood everywhere; but in my opinion, it was just as bad. With every furious stomp he gave and every roll of his eyes I felt like he was bringing a sledgehammer to my heart. And as the pieces of my heart grew even smaller, I shrieked until my voice grew hoarse. 

"I hate you!" I shouted hysterically. "I hate you!"

"'I hate you, I hate you,'" he mimicked disgustedly. 

He seemed so cool, so tough, and so untouched with his arms crossed and a disapproving smirk pulling at his lips. Looking back I regret trying to break that. All I wanted, at that moment, was to make him cry. I wanted his hands to tremble, I wanted his eyelids fluttering with disbelief, I wanted to know someone cared. I wanted to here an "I'm sorry"- even though he did nothing. It wasn't his fault.

"I HATE YOU!" I bellowed with strong, passionate frustration. Tears were trickling from my eyes like rain,  as his shoulders started to sag just a little bit.

"Laine..." he whispered, but mercilessly I continued. 

"No," I cry at the memory. "That was good enough, stop!"

But I kept going.

"This is all your fault. I will never trust you again- I will never talk to you again. If that's what you want, you can have it all- I don't need any."

"Please, La-"

"You can share it with someone else," I spat.

He stood there, arms loosely crossed and jaw hanging open. Hurt shined in his eyes, but I was too selfish to notice. 

"I'm sorry," I concluded, walking away.