“Truth hurts”, I said loudly, but I said that more to myself than to him.
“I always thought of that, Juliet”, he threw it back at me. “Well then, let’s call it quits.” The thunder roared and flashed and I had the chance to see his cold stare – how weird that those were the same eyes I thought of having the most concern of me every time. He is not the same guy I knew. I trusted him with my life but it turned out to be ruined by him. He killed my father and my friends... and now it’s my turn to die.
Truth will set you free, as others say. But more than setting free, truth cut wounds. Truth hurts, it really is – my brain is telling me that over and over as my tears are flowing through my face mixed with the rain, my aching right hand holding one of the metal rails of the bridge.
To hell with him. I always dream of a romantic end, like those happily ever after that I read in fairytales before. But as I looked at the water angrily throwing waves beneath me and the guy standing here with me in the rain, I don’t think I could afford that ending.
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