Heartbreak's A Bitch!

by S. M Phillips

  “I said look at me, Emily.” A chill runs right down my spine at the sound of my name leaving his mouth and not in a good way. Not only is this guy seriously deluded, but it seems he’s also a sadistic sod too. Why else would he want me to look him in the eye just as he’s about to pull the trigger and watch the life leave my innocent and carefree body?

  Maybe kicking up a scene would have been a better idea. Well played Emily, well played.

  I can feel his eyes burning into me as I stand frozen, rigidly rooted to the spot. Bloody hell, all I wanted to do was grab a sandwich and a packet of crisps from Marks’. What a way to go, though, death by hunger at the hands of a complete and utter stranger.

  “I don’t know what you want from me.” I whimper, not sure why he hasn’t fired and got all of this over and done with yet. “Take it,” I say as I hold out my bag, still refusing to meet his eyes.

  “Your bag?”

  “I know it’s not much, a couple of loyalty cards, one seriously maxed out credit card so you’ll have no joy with that I’m afraid, but there’s a shattered iPhone 7 in there. I’m pretty sure you’d still get a good price for spares and repairs, though.”

  “Emily, I don’t want your bag. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You don’t?” I ask suspiciously and I finally let out a long gust of air that I didn’t realise I was holding in. After a couple more seconds have passed, I finally lift my head up and look at him, not realising that this could all still be some messed up little ploy just so he can get ready to attack.

  “No. No, I don’t.” Scott-Scott shakes his head sincerely and for some strange reason, I think I actually believe him.

  Jesus Christ. I really need to have a good old, strong talking to myself. This is ridiculous. My decisions recently haven’t been the best, have they? “Well, that’s absolutely fan-flipping-tastic. I won’t lie, you kind of had me worried for a minute there.” I laugh nervously and secretly hope that he doesn’t pick up on it. There’s nothing these kinds of people like more than weak prey and I refuse to become someone’s prey.

  “Sorry, it must have been the shock from bumping into you, I guess. I just wanted to know why you’ve been ignoring me? You just kind of went AWOL all of a sudden, without so much as a warning. I really hope I didn’t do anything to offend you? I thought we were getting on great and then…”

  Wow. This guy must be on some serious crack. He clearly wasn’t joking when he said he thought he knew me? Even though I’ve told him that I haven’t got a clue who he is, he’s still fairly insistent. If he’s not a hit-man, then who the hell is he? “Look, I’ve got absolutely no idea who you are. I really wish I did so that I could help put you out of your misery, but I have never, ever spoken to you in my whole entire life. That I am one hundred percent sure of.”

  “Not in person, no.” He continues and he’s really getting more creepier and creepier by the second. I flinch back a little as he rams his phone right in front of my face, which personally I find highly rude. How hard is it for people to use their manners these days?

  So, that’s what he was grabbing out of his pocket. “See, that’s you is it not?” He demands, shoving it a little bit closer, causing me to step backwards, unsure of what I’m going to bang into.

  I try my best to adjust my eyes, a little hazy from the close proximity and… wow. He’s not bloody lying. It’s me. There I am staring back at the real me from his phone. How has this guy got my picture on his phone, and more importantly, why?

  “Yes…” I nod in disbelief as his phone continues to creep closer and closer to my eyes and he even gives it a little shake for added effect as if to say, ‘see, I told you so.’ “But one question. Why do you have my picture on your phone?”

  He shrugs and looks at me as if I have just asked the most bizarre and most random question ever known to man. “Because you sent it to me.” He replies, but he looks just as confused as I feel.

  Well, this is turning out to be pretty eventful, isn’t it? “Say what now?”

  The temperature drops just as a big gust of wind sweeps around us. Bloody perfect. I wanted to be back home and settled by the time the snow hits. Mr. Jones may have warned me about it a few days before, but he wasn’t lying when he said that there was going to be a mass downpour of the wicked white stuff.

  “Faithful flats, today might just be the day that I lose you,” I say to myself silently and my chest aches at the thought of such a horrific loss. We’ve been through so much and it’d be a real shame for us to separate. These shoes have been there for me when no one else has, protecting me no matter what the situation.

  “Emily if you’re not interested anymore just tell me. It’s okay I get it, shit happens. The last thing I want to do is stand here looking like an absolute knob for no reason.”

  I turn my attention back to Scott-Scott, completely freaked out by this whole situation. Maybe if the two of us had met under different circumstances, I’d probably find him pretty cute. But now? Most definitely not. I’m afraid he’s now right up there with nipple man. I can’t help but shudder at the thought.

  “I won’t lie to you Scott. You’re kind of scaring me here, pal. I don’t know you from Adam, yet you seem to know a lot about me.”

  “Right.” He says as his hand swoops over his jaw. The poor bloke looks utterly defeated. “Okay, well I guess there’s not much left for me to say is there?”

  “Not really.” I half smile, trying my best to sound as sympathetic as one can in this kind of messed up situation. In all honestly, though, I’m not even convincing myself. Deciding enough is enough, desperate to get out of the icy cold, I place my right foot forward as I say, “I wish I could say that it’s been nice meeting you, but it’s really been a little bit weird, hasn’t it? Oh, and please could you delete that photo of me as well? I don’t know who sent it to you, but I can assure you that whoever it was wasn’t me.”

  “Do you think that someone’s pretending to be you?” He gasps.

  Strangely enough, that thought hadn’t even entered my mind, well not until now. I suppose alarm bells should have been firing off from every direction as soon as he rammed my picture in my face. But, what with a crazed loon taking over my personal space and the cold winter air threatening to crack my poor, neglected nipples, it just wasn’t really on top of my agenda.

  “I guess it looks that way,” I say sombrely. Who the hell would want to pretend to be me anyway? Yes, I’m not too modest to admit that I can be pretty freaking awesome at the best of times, but trust me, no one would want to be me 24/7. Bloody hell, even I’d love to have a break from being me from time to time, but I just can’t seem to catch that break. No matter what I do, it just doesn’t seem to be happening for me. “Actually, before I go, could you tell me how we’ve apparently been communicating?”

  “Huh?”

  “Well…” I say slowly, “you’ve already said that we’ve never spoken face to face before, so how is it that we were talking?”

  “POF.” He replies, very matter of fact.

  “Excuse me?” I snap, slightly offended by his response. “Are you trying to be funny? You have images of me on your phone, images that do not belong to you and only god knows what else and you don’t even have the balls to tell me how or where you acquired them?” Numerous passers-by slower their pace so they can have a right good old eavesdrop at my squealing voice. Why the hell am I still even stood here trying to argue the toss with a total stranger? It’s clearly getting me nowhere and I should have just carried on walking as soon as he started talking to me.

  “POF. Don’t tell me that you don’t know what it is?” No, I bloody well don’t. Why else would I be asking? “Plenty. Of. Fish.” He continues, not really paying any attention to the confused expression on my face, or maybe I just look constipated, who knows? “You know, plenty more fish in the sea and all that? It’s an online dating website. Clearly, it’s not you that’s been messaging me.”

  “And the penny finally drops.” I
say, my voice laced with sarcasm. Finally, this Dude seems to be getting it loud and clear in his deluded little mind that I’m not the person that he thinks I am.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I’ll delete everything, even though I’ll be gutted to see those awesome tit-pics go.” He smirks right at me. The cocky little shit.

  He isn’t smirking for long when my palm quickly connects with his face. “Ouch.” Shit, that hurt. “I’m sorry,” I say questioningly. Because well, I’m not a violent person, but damn it felt good to let loose for a second. Fucking pervert.

  “I’m out of here.” He mouths while hurriedly walking backwards, yet he never takes his shocked wide eyes away from mine until he’s completely out of sight, swallowed up by the mass crowds of one of London’s busiest streets.

  Rachel. Bloody Rachel.

  I’m going to physically kill her when I get my hands on her. How could she do this? How could she do this to me, of all people?

  I couldn’t get Scott and the whole dating site thing out of my head on the way home. It all just kept on spinning round and round on repeat, like a vicious cycle and with each passing second my anger grew increasingly, which is rare for me and never a good sign for the person who caused me to feel this way.

  Now I know that Rachel’s super keen on all this dating malarkey, I’ve witnessed her in action numerous times, but to actually go out of her way and open some random account in my name and then to have the audacity to pretend to be me, saying and sending only God knows what is taking it to a whole new level. A level that should never be reached when said person is supposed to be your best friend.

  Sure, she added me to Tinder and created a monster in the process and yes, she set me up on a blind date, which just so happened to be with the most sexiest man that I have ever had the pleasure of scanning my eyes over, and that was all fine. It was A-Okay; because no matter how much I tried to plead with her eventually I consented, but not to this. Frigging hell, I didn’t even know about any of this and that in itself isn’t fair.

  I mean we’re supposed to be friends, yet she’s off having a jolly old time sexting away with random strangers and sending over sordid pictures of me. To get a kick out of it at my expense? A little ego boost? She’s got a hell of a lot to answer for, that’s for sure.

  I’m absolutely livid. For all Rachel knew, that Scott guy could have kidnapped me or anything. Would anyone have noticed that I’d gone, completely disappeared? No, because all the evidence is on bloody Rachel’s phone and not mine. Me and my poor faithful flats could have been right up shit street and no one would have been none the wiser. I shudder just thinking out it.

  I arrive at my garden gate just as big, thick, white flakes begin to fall down around me. Wow, talk about timing. That’s possibly the only positive thing that’s happened to me today. I really can’t wait to get inside, throw on my favourite penguin pyjama’s and shut the whole world out for a little while. Surely, I’m owed at least that much? Well, maybe I could throw in a couple of bars of chocolate, some Haagen-Dazs ice-cream, and a little bit of shitty tele and then the balance would be evened out ever slightly. But only just.

  I spot Mr Jones peeping out from behind his blinds and I give him a little wave as my feet crunch against the gravel. It certainly looks like he’s got the right idea. At least he’s safe and warm, inside nice and cosy. I’d hate to think of him being poorly, especially this time of year. I’d hate for anyone to get ill, but I’m quite fond of Mr Jones. No matter how loud he blasts his music, he’s always there, looking out for me. It wouldn’t surprise me if my Grandma has him vetted before she bought the place.

  The minute my foot is through the front door I grab my post and the quickly turn the lock, making my disconnection with the outside complete.

  … And breathe.

  There’s nothing better than coming home to a warm and peaceful house. Especially when the voices inside your head are constantly screaming and getting way out of control. I don’t know who they are or where they’ve come from, but they really need to pipe down, and fast.

  Pulling out my now battered once was not so long ago shiny brand new iPhone 7, I notice a message from Rachel which I completely forgot about earlier, just before I all too physically bumped into Scott-Scott. I tell you what though, it’s a bloody good job my screen’s broken because right now I really don’t want to know what she’s got to say. It’ll all be fake bullshit anyway.

  Some things I’d risk slicing my fingers open for, but right now Rachel isn’t one of them. Now that’s something that I never imagined I would ever say. Today is just bursting at the seams with surprises. Plus, the little witch still owes me a new bloody phone, too. If it wasn’t for her and her stupid online dating addiction then I wouldn’t have been on Tinder to start with and my phone wouldn’t have jumped right out of my hands onto the table, would it? Speaking of which, I’m not doing all that bad with my Tinder addiction, it’s been what, two days since my last swipe? My thumbs could do with a little work out, though. But overall, I’m actually surprising myself.

  “No Emily, because that would then make you a hypocrite as you would fall right into Rachel’s category.”

  “I don’t want to think about Rachel right now.”

  For God sake, I bloody wish that alter ego of mine would piss off. She doesn’t pipe up when it comes to stopping me from making stupid decisions. No, she sits back and silently watches from the side- lines only to goad me about it at the most inconvenient times. I really don’t like her all that much anymore.

  As I rifle through my bag, searching high and low for my favourite chap stick I stumble across Noah’s mystery package. Oh, Noah, sexy, hot as hell Noah. He is so swoon worthy, it’s unreal. I wonder what it could be and why in the name of man he would be sending me of all people a package. I hold it ever so delicately, not too sure if it’s worthy of my clumsy hands. And to think that Scott-Scott could have had off with it and I would have never known what was inside.

  Uh, the suspense is killing me. I’ve not been so excited about a surprise since Santa brought me my first ever Polly pocket. I don’t care what anyone says, Polly pockets were the shit, even more so when they brought out the magnetic ones. All of a sudden, my Polly Pocket was real, actually alive and she was all mine. I’m pretty sure my Mum’s still got a few of mine stored away in the loft. Bloody hell, those were the days when the only thing you needed to worry about was whether you’d be allowed to play with it after tea, or not. What I’d do to be able to go back in time. I’d make sure that I cherished those carefree moments, because growing up isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.

  Unable to contain my giddy little self anymore, I gently tear off the expensive looking wrapping paper and gasp loudly as my brain takes in its contents. Jesus, just when I thought my very own Thor couldn’t get any more perfect, he goes and throws something like this into the mix.

  For crying out loud, I don’t even know the guy, yet this is possibly the most nicest, most thoughtful gift I have ever received. “Thor…” I swoon again and a humongous grin spreads across my face. I’m like a fat kid in a sweet shop as my hands tenderly caress the cold, grey metal. Oh, it’s so beautiful; so new and not a single smashed screen in sight.

  I pause a minute, reluctantly pulling my eyes away from this new and very much wanted addition to my life and wonder if I can really accept this gift. I mean, never in my life has anyone bought me something as great as this. The only thing that Tyler ever bought for me was reduced to almost free wilted flowers and that was only so he didn’t end up getting a headache about never treating me to anything. Looking back, I don’t think I can ever remember a time when he took me out for a meal and actually paid for it. But alas, I was blind and in love, so I would always forgive him anything. Well, within reason, which he soon came to realise in time.

  Now this, this shiny little 4.7 inches of goodness is too much to accept from someone that I have only just met. Oh God, it’s breaking my heart at just the thought of having to g
ive it back.

  “I’d love you for all eternity and I know that I could give you a good home.” I murmur, suddenly sounding like Smeagol when it comes to his precious. “I’d be more careful and take good care of you and not be so reckless this time.” And just like that, my decision is made. My shiny, super brand spanking new iPhone 7 is staying and it’s all mine.

  How on earth will I ever be able to say thank you to him? I guess all I can do is hope that he pops into Rachel’s again. If not, I’ll have to go for the big guns and see if she has his number. Now that’s a first, little old me asking for someone’s number. She’ll probably think I’ve got it majorly bad. Oh, well. Maybe that’s something that I’m just going to have to chance.

  “Bollocks. I guess I could do that if I was speaking to her” I remind myself. Ugh, why does everything have to be so bloody complicated? On a plus note, I guess this must mean that he’s pretty keen on a second date? I don’t think I did anything too embarrassing the other night, either, so here’s hoping.

  Something catches my eye as I go to grab the luxurious wrapping paper from the kitchen worktop. Is that what I think it is? Sure enough, a small rectangular card slides out. I go to pick it up and then stop. Do I really want to see what’s written on there? Maybe the gift wasn’t really for me and Rachel just assumed? Its stupid I know, but a teeny tiny part of me is scared to read it. I mean what can you possibly say to someone to explain all of this? He clearly doesn’t know that he’s reached way over maximum brownie points after replacing the one and only love of my life.

  “Jesus Christ Emily, grow some bloody balls and have a look. It won’t bite you.” I scold myself. Oh well, here goes. I close my eyes tightly as I turn the thick card over in my hands before opening them again and trying to work out his not so eloquent scrawl. Well, I guess you can’t have everything, can you? If he did, I’d definitely be getting worried.