The Bracket.

For two years in a row, I gave Dexter the hardest of times because he forgot to make a March Madness bracket with me. Instead of taking it as a sign of the ever-so obvious fact that he sucked, I thought it was silly and kind of cute and teased him about it endlessly. Dexter swore up and down that he would never forget to make a bracket with me again.

Yesterday, I walk out to my car in the morning. Rocking a new pair of earrings, and a solid 7 hours of sleep (for once) I felt ready to be productive and take several steps to get my shitty ass messy life back on track. I get in my car, get my phone settled in my cup holder like I do everyday and reach to turn on the ignition. That’s when I saw it. A folded piece of paper stuck neatly under my windshield wiper.

My stomach dropped. 

Dizzy, I opened the door and got out to retrieve the mystery paper. I got back in, closed the door, and locked it. I took a deep breathe. Even though I did not know what was to come, there was some deep part of my soul that knew, hands down, that this wasn’t going to be a fun experience. Slowly, I unfolded the paper. Damp from the morning dew and humidity, I had to be careful not to tear it. The paper lay open on my lap.

A bracket. 

Nothing else, just the bracket. He didn’t need to write a note, he didn’t need to sign it, I knew. I knew what it was and what it meant. I refolded the paper and tossed it into my passenger seat and began my short commute to campus. I was unaffected for a solid 30 seconds. By the first stoplight however, I lost it.

Hot tears gushed from the corners of my eyes and streamed down my cheeks. I was livid. I was livid that he dare try to send me any form of a message. I was livid that I ever crossed his mind. I was livid that it was the third year a shitty person fucked up my attempt at enjoying March Madness. I was livid that he attempted to “fulfill his promise” after all of his lies and cheating. I was livid that he tried to mess with me AGAIN. I was livid that he stood in my apartment complex and touched my fucking car while I unknowingly slept upstairs only 20 feet away.

Mostly, I was livid that I was fucking up my awesome eye makeup. 

A shrill scream escaped from me. Like an out of body experience, my own scream hurt my  ears and took me by surprise. My right hand was throbbing and I looked down to realize that it had formed a tight fist as it pounded relentlessly on the steering wheel. I could see it all happening, but I was not in control.

I was not in control of myself. I was not in control on my surroundings. I was not in control of what was happening to me. All because of one little piece of paper and all because he knew exactly what he was doing… Who knew you could endure emotional abuse from someone you don’t even see or talk to. LEAVE. ME. ALONE.


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