#50 Free At Last

by Mariana Santangelo

The first time that I tried to end it, Isabel cut her face with a razor. She said that she needed to rend her skin, vibrate in physical pain to ease her heartache.
I ended up pleading for forgiveness and implored her to take me back.
This time around, I would follow the Three Golden Rules of Break Up that my roommate had trained me on and I would remain unattached, especially to my own emotions.
Rule #1: A neutral place.
I asked her to meet me at The Blue House.
Rule #2: Honesty
Technically impossible with Isabel. Some women cannot handle honesty.
Rule #3: Don’t let it linger.
Precise words. Crucial.
I showed up early, made my way through the bar, gulped down a double Scotch and plodded through the lengthy hallway reclaiming my bravery.
I sat on the blue chair by the window.
I recognized her worn out combat boots as she stepped down the stairs; her bare, scrawny legs storming down erratically. She stood by me looking frail, drunk and broken. Beautiful for a moment.
“Where were you?”
“I got a drink at the bar. I thought I was early.”
“You are late. Too late…”
She walked away as in a numb stupor. Down from her leather jacket’s sleeves, two strings of blood framed her steps. As she walked along the white and blue tiles, leaving her life behind with a crimson trail, we were both released from her turbid snare and the agony of her existence.

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