《Crossing The Line》Twelve || Damìan

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I wanted to enjoy my night and forget about the drama that unfolded on Friday, yet I felt annoyed and frustrated after my encounter with Livia. So, to get as far as possible, I left the club and texted my friends that I was taking an uber home.

It's late, so the house is quiet when I arrive.

As I ascend the spiral staircase to my bedroom, I hear music softly playing from Luena's room across the hall by some Latina singer, which piques my interest

"Lulu. Are you still up?" I ask, tapping on the door, and when she doesn't respond, I step inside.

The room greets me with a dim neon red light glowing from two Koi fish hanging above her bed. She isn't in the room, so I go to leave, but before I do, I notice her phone unlocked on the bed, so I look at it. Taking it in my hands, I see that an unknown number has sent her something; a photo of Livia and me on the balcony at Calabasas.

Below is a message that reads: "You thought you won, but you truly didn't. Here's the proof."

I groan, throwing the phone on the bed. This has Livia written all over it; she can never back down. Whatever scheme she has intended, whatever unpleasant manipulation she has in store—she sure as shit better end it now. She knows what's she doing and is purposely coming between us—I mean, why else would she send Luena this message? Nevertheless, I refuse to allow her to ruin my friendship with Luena.

I should look for Luena and apologise but I can't. She's been avoiding me all day, and if that isn't enough, my ex-girlfriend has started taunting her.

Annoyed, I leave the room; she's taunting her, and Luena doesn't deserve it.

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I should have payed more attention to the signs of who she is, but I didn't because I allowed her to trick me, manipulate me, cheat on me and now ruin parts of my life I hold dear.

Strutting across the hall, I enter my room and close the door. It's dark, except for the moonlight streaming through my window, so I don't turn on the lights. Eventually, I decide to shower and remove my clothes, tossing them absent-mindedly at the foot of my bed. I sigh, getting in the shower to soap myself with Aēsop. The steam from my waterfall showerhead fills the bathroom.

I've undergone many epiphanies on love this weekend, enough to last me a lifetime, and one of the things I have perceived about it is this:

Love is a wound that affects beyond what is hurt. If you do not want an infection, do not give into love. All it will cause you is sorrow, pain, and stitches that will never fully heal.

I'm no poet, but that is a quote I will live with forever.

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