99

                                    

                                          
"Am I going to see you, just the two of us?"
My heart thumped in my chest as I waited for her to say something. I felt sick. And the booming noise of my racing pulse was so loud in my head that I was scared I wouldn't hear her answer. But, when she sighed, it sliced through the silence and straight through my chest. It wasn't a soft, content sigh that you might let slip from your lips if you were so happily in love. It was a heavy sigh, laced in exhaustion, like she couldn't fight any longer.
It felt like a landslide hit my insides. Like my heart caved in on itself and slid right through my body, taking all my other necessary organs with it before smashing onto the floor. 
She wouldn't look at me. Her gaze stayed pinned to the wall in front of her, letting the silence hang there like the blade of a guillotine, waiting to fall and sever what was left of us. I felt sick as I stared at her, taking in her watery eyes, her freckled nose, her soft lips dipped into a frown. Even when she was breaking my heart, she was beautiful.
My throat felt like sandpaper as I parted my dry lips. "You told me you loved me," I reminded her, a little shakily. We hadn't ever brought it up, not with everything else going on, but I needed to know. I needed to know how she felt about me.
She sniffed and wiped the tears from her face and my hands itched to reach for her. I hated seeing her upset, but I stayed where I was, feet rooted to the ground, waiting for her to say something. She inhaled shakily and finally looked at me, eyes watery and full of pity. "I thought I was going to die," she whispered.
The words stung but I shook my head. "So, you didn't mean it?"
"Matty," she sighed, turning away again and letting her shoulders slump. She shook her head from left to right, over and over, but didn't say anything more. 
"Please," I begged her, sounding pathetic but I couldn't even begin to care. "I just need to know," I said, the hopelessness dripping through my tone. I felt like the guillotine was in my hands now and I was about to release it and destroy us in the process. But I couldn't remain ignorant any longer. I couldn't go another day without knowing, one way or another, how she felt about me.
Even if it broke my heart.
"Please, I need to know. Do you love me?" My voice wavered and my chest ached as I stared at the side of her head, willing her to look at me so I could read her expression. "Because I love you, Rose. I have never stopped loving you. But, if you don't love me," I carried on, just because I couldn't stand the silence, "then we don't really have anything left to fight for."
She finally looked up at me, her tears falling faster than she could wipe them away. "Matty," she practically sobbed. I could see her hands trembling in her lap before she lifted them to her face, desperately trying to dry her tears. 
"Please, Rose."
She hung her head, tipping it down and burying it in her hands. "Of course, I do," she murmured into her palms, her voice so soft and muffled but the words rang as clear as day. "Of course I love you."
The words felt like a shot of heroin injected into my veins. A rush of adrenaline swam through my veins, igniting every single inch of my body. Relief felt like it physically poured into my bloodstream and everything suddenly felt lighter. And then, like the guillotine had dropped, that elation shattered as I realised it didn't change things. Our situation hadn't altered at all.
"So now what?"
"I don't know!" she exclaimed, hands rubbing down her face. She was a mess of tears and snot, her breathing ragged and her entire body trembling. In this state, I couldn't help but think back to the conversation we had about her dad, when she finally admitted the truth to me. That mixture of panic and sadness and relief all blurring into one, leaving her hyperventilating and sobbing.