in that one moment, i wanted to stand up and hit him: i wanted to make him hurt, make him bleed, make him feel what he did to me. make him feel his lies and deceit, push it into his skin like a knife and letting the scarlet lies pour out for everyone to see.
every little lie, every "mia bella" came back to haunt me. every word that idly dripped out of his mouth that caressed and cared for me turned black and shriveled like a dead flower.
because every time he kissed me, he lied.
i can't believe i just let him string me along like that. he just turned me into some sort of flesh-and-blood puppet, tossed me around and stepped on me like garbage put on the curb for tuesday night pickup. he put me in a plastic bag with old coffee grounds and used condoms from a night when i wasn't there.
i should have never loved him.