six-Oak
Jordan had accused me of being destructive when I was angry. The proof was staring back at me. The house was a disaster. In the two weeks since Jordin left me standing at the police department, I’d torn through it a few times. Furniture was overturned, pictures were shattered, and remnants of my rage littered the floor. The smell of stale vodka lingered, but the surfaces were clean. I couldn't bring myself to care about the chaos; I just needed to feel something other than the gnawing emptiness inside.
I grabbed the bottle of top-shelf vodka from the counter, popped the cap off, and took a long swig. The alcohol burned as it went down, but it dulled the ache in my heart. I stood in front of the mirror, looking at my reflection. I was dressed in clean clothes—a crisp white shirt and dark jeans—but the pain in my eyes was unmistakable. My face was a mask of anger and hurt.
The door burst open, and Marcus walked in, his face twisted with disgust. “Damn, Oak. You look like shit,” he said, looking around the room. “And this place looks like a war zone.”
I shrugged, taking another swig. “What do you want, Marcus?”
He made his way into the room, grabbed the remote, and turned off the TV. “Get up,” he ordered, his tone filled with that familiar older-brother authority he loved to wield. We were too fucking old for that now.
“Fuck off. I don’t need a big brother lecture,” I snapped.
Suddenly, his hand was wrapped around my arm. He tugged, pulling me to my feet.
“Yes, you do,” he shot back. “You think destroying her house is going to bring her back? She’ll hate you more.”
I glared at him, my anger bubbling to the surface. “Fuck you, Marcus.”
Marcus’s face hardened. “Fuck me? I know you’re hurting, but that doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole.”
I stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. “Fuck you, Marcus, again. You don’t understand. Nothing you say matters. You didn’t even like her.”
He stood up too, his eyes blazing. “I’m trying to help you, Oak. But if you want to wallow in your own misery, go ahead. Just don’t expect me to watch you destroy yourself.”
We stared each other down, the tension crackling in the air. My entire body felt hot; I was burning from the inside out, and before I knew it, I shoved him. Marcus stumbled back but quickly regained his footing.
“What the fuck, Oak?” he shouted, shoving me back. “You want to fight? Is that what you need?”
I lunged at him, slamming into his chest. He shoved back, his hands grabbing at my arms, but I swung wild, catching him in the ribs. He grunted, then swung at me, his fist connecting with my shoulder.
We stumbled, our feet tangling as we wrestled. My elbow caught his jaw, and he grabbed my shirt, yanking hard enough to make me lose my balance. We hit the floor with a thud, fists still flying, until we both lay there, panting, too tired to keep going.
I was hurting. We hadn’t fought like this since we were teenagers, back when I was still stupid enough to think I could win. My ribs ached, my jaw throbbed, and my hands were raw. But the pain didn’t matter. I deserved it.
I stared up at the ceiling, my chest heaving, his groans next to me loud in the quiet room.
“You done?” Marcus panted, looking over at me with a mix of anger and pity.
I pushed myself off the floor, feeling the adrenaline drain away, leaving me hollow. “Yeah, I’m done.”
We sat there for a few minutes, catching our breath. Marcus finally broke the silence. “You need to get your shit together, Oak. This isn’t helping anyone.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The words were there, but they felt stuck, tangled in my throat.
My mind immediately drifted back to Jordin. When I thought about it, she was half responsible for the affair. She just made it too easy. Always traveling for work, always leaving me alone to fend for myself. She knew I needed her, but she didn’t care. She put her career above everything else, above us. She made me feel… disposable.
Before I knew it, I was on my feet, my thoughts spilling out. I started pacing, my fists clenching. “She’s so fucking selfish. Always traveling, always chasing her fucking dream. She put me second. No—third, fourth, last! And now she’s acting like I threw it all away, like I’m the one who ruined everything. I gave her my whole damn self, Marcus. My whole fucking self! And what did she give me?”
“Bro.” Marcus’s voice cut me off. “Oak, shut the fuck up,” he shouted, staring up at me like I’d lost my mind.
My chest deflated. “She’s gone, though. She’s everything, Marcus. I don’t know how to live without her.”
He shook his head, pushing himself up off the floor. “You need to start by forgiving yourself,” he said softly. “You made a mistake. A huge one. But you can’t let it destroy you.”
His words made sense, but they felt hollow. Forgiveness was impossible when the person I needed it from the most wasn’t around to give it.
I sat on the couch, feeling the exhaustion seep into my bones.
