Read Worth It for Free Online Page B

show weakness with him because he’ll pounce like a tiger on a gazelle, but it’s so hard to keep all my frayed emotions in check.
    “I do care. I love you,” he pleads. “I’ll make it all up to you. I miss you. I’ll be better this time, I promise.”
    My eyes drift upward to the roof of my shitty green Ford Escort, willing it to give me the strength I need. “Like I haven’t heard that before,” I reply quietly. “It has been the same line each and every one of the four times we’ve played this game, and every time, I believed you. But I’m just a convenient fuck for you. If you really cared, you wouldn’t have ignored me after we made up. You wouldn’t do that to me.” A tear escapes. “You’re only twenty-five. You’ve been married and divorced, and you have a kid. Straighten your life out, and let me move on with mine.”
    “I really am sorry,” he says gently. “You’re right. I’ve treated you like shit, and you don’t deserve that. I’m going to win you back though. I can’t lose you. I love you, Anna. You’re mine, and I’m yours. We’ll get through this rocky time, I swear it.”
    His deceptively sincere words cause the smallest of cracks in my resolve, but I remind myself that he doesn’t care.
    “If you cared so much, why are you calling me today instead of three days ago?”
    “What was three days ago?”
    “My twenty-second birthday,” I say as my eyes roll.
    “I thought your birthday was in June.”
    I blow out an irritated breath through my nose. “Exactly. We were together for over a year, and you don’t even know my birthday is October eighteenth. Does that sound like the hallmark of a good relationship to you?”
    “All right, Anna, I get it. I was a shitty boyfriend. You deserve better, but I will be that for you, I promise. I need you, baby. I love you. Please come over, so we can talk this out.”
    Exasperated, I rub my hand roughly along my brow, but I don’t say anything at first. I waited for words like these for so fucking long, and now that I’ve gathered enough courage to move on, he does this shit. The crack that’s been forming in my determination begins to splinter, and more tears threaten to flow down my cheeks. I need to get off the phone before I cave. I don’t love him anymore, and I’m not sure I ever truly did, but I still crave love and affection.
    “I need to go. Please just let this be,” I say, my voice quivering.
    I quickly end the call. I toss my phone into my purse and rest my forehead against the steering wheel. The tremors I suppressed earlier rock through my body. I breathe deeply, trying to calm myself and get rid of the anxiety. My fingers twitch to reach inside my purse for my blade, but I don’t. I will never go there again. I remind myself of the person I was, the girl I hated for her weakness and self-loathing. It hasn’t been easy, and it’s still a daily struggle to keep the bullshit of my past in that dark place where it belongs. I’ve gotten pretty good at putting on a shield every day, but that’s not to say the memories don’t sneak out at night in my nightmares. That’s why I had to leave Sam. Even though I deserved it, the more he treated me like shit, the harder it was to resist cutting. Something had to give, or I would have reverted back, and I can’t do that. I just can’t.
    The ringing of my phone startles me out of my battle for self-control, but I don’t answer it. I’ve said my piece, and I won’t back down. I can’t. I reach back into the bag, grab my phone, put it on silent, and then I toss it back into my purse.
    I flip down my visor to check the damage to my makeup in the mirror. My big blue eyes are a little bloodshot with mascara smudged underneath. My dainty nose is red, matching the splotchy red on my high cheekbones. I reach for the cosmetic bag in my purse, and my fingers pause on the zippered pocket holding my blade. I don’t know why I still keep it with me. Maybe it’s the knowledge