I didn’t want him anywhere near me. I’d had my fill. After months of him acting jealous and crazy, I’d hit my limit. I was finished with all of it. I was over the arguing and I was done trying to hide my problem from him. I was done in general.

I pressed a bloody palm to his chest and shoved him with all the strength I had.

“Get away from me!” I yelled. The taste of blood filled my mouth when I opened it to speak. “I’m done with this shit, Zeke! Done!”

His face took on his wounded puppy look that usually melted my determination, but it didn’t work. I wasn’t sure who was helping me to my feet, but I let them. And when Hope was at my side again, I let her pull me out the front door of the club and into the passenger’s seat of my car.

She reached into the glove compartment and then proceeded to stuff McDonald’s napkins into my hands. I covered my nose with them and she pulled down the visor, letting my keys fall into her palm. As we backed out of the parking lot, I saw Zeke rush out the door. His devastated eyes connected with mine as we pulled away.

I leaned my head back against the headrest and Hope drove me to the nearest hospital.

“I can’t believe he hit you! That bastard! That’s so unlike him,” Hope said as she sped down the interstate.

“He didn’t technically hit me. I got in the way of his elbow, but that’s enough for me. I’m so fucking done with this. He’s been acting crazy for weeks now.” My napkins were filling fast, even with my head back.

“What’s gotten into him? Maybe you should give him some of your chill pills.” She got off the exit and we zoomed past the blue sign letting us know there was a hospital nearby.

“He doesn’t know I take them. That’s what started this. He keeps seeing me alone with Phillip. I told him you had a crush on Phillip and I was talking to him for you. Tonight he caught me coming out of the women’s bathroom with him.”

I knew how bad it sounded, but I was done hiding and denying. I spent almost all my life hiding something from someone and I was done trying to keep up with the lies. I was over lying in general. I wasn’t a liar by nature, but I was becoming pathological.

“Damn, Patience, you should’ve told him. Now poor Phillip is back there knocked the fuck out. And ew! You told Zeke I had a crush on Phillip? Gross.”

I didn’t say anything else after that. She was right. It was my fault that Phillip got hurt. Actually, most of this was my fault, but that didn’t matter. Zeke hit me. Whether it was accidental or on purpose, he had physically hurt me and I wasn’t okay with that. I’d never be okay with that.

After some x-rays, the doctor came back into the room.

“Well, it’s not broken, but you’ll have some pretty ugly bruising and swelling around your eyes. I’m going to give you a prescription for the pain. If you start having any dizzy spells or if you faint, have your friend bring you back immediately.”

We left the hospital an hour later. I wrapped myself in my hoodie that I had on my backseat. I looked like I’d been slaughtered. There was so much blood on the front of my dress. It made me kind of sad to think about it. I’d brought the dress for Zeke and he seemed to love it. It was only appropriate that the dress be ruined since what we had together was ruined as well.

Instead of going home, I crashed with Hope at her sorority house. I borrowed a long T-shirt and some shorts and tried to sleep on the couch downstairs. Instead, I stared at the ceiling. My heart hurt almost as much as my face.

My phone had died long ago, since Zeke had called and texted repeatedly. His texts switched back and forth. In one, he’d be mad at me and want to know what was going on with Phillip and me, and then he’d send me a crying face and ask for my forgiveness. He was a bipolar mess.

There were several voicemails on my phone, but after checking one that consisted of him crying and begging me to please come home so he knew I was okay, I decided that checking those were a bad idea.

Once the sun was fully in my eyes, I got up and checked my face. I looked awful. The black bruising spread from under my eyes down onto my cheekbones and covered most of my nose. I looked like a big, black swollen mess. I felt like my head had been run over by a big truck.

I took one of the pain pills and drove home. I was exhausted, confused, and hurt, physically and mentally. I stopped by the coffee shop under my apartment and grabbed a pick-me-up. Everyone stared at me like I was a battered wife and I wanted to get the hell out of there. But I needed the coffee, and I wanted any excuse I could think of to avoid going back to my apartment.