You see, I am not the only one in love with Spencer Carlin. In reality she is married, she has two young kids, and she has an entire life outside of me. Unfortunately. I suppose this is why she left, because she had so much else in her life and I was only another unnecessary complication. But, her husband is scum, she confessed that to me. She told me that she’d never loved him, and that she was pressured into the marriage by her mother after she discovered she was pregnant. So I don’t understand why, why she would pick that pig over me. I’ve never felt more worthless in my life.

That day she left, I swear I could see her heart breaking in her eyes. I have never seen someone with such deep blue eyes, and after witnessing them, I cannot help but notice just how flat and shallow everyone else’s gaze seem to be. There is no sensible thought, after you have been left by Spencer Carlin, only a foggy daze that leaves you stunned and confused. Your life becomes like watching the television on mute, with the pictures and the mouths moving, but nothing seeming to come together and make sense.

I finally wake from my little episode in the shower and shut off the water, realizing just how red and raw my shoulders are. It has done nothing to ease this feeling of filthiness, but I am aware that nothing will. Wrapped in a towel I move into my bedroom, checking my phone for messages just in case. I am surprised to see a little envelope dancing on the screen, declaring I have a voicemail with obnoxious cheerfulness. No one ever calls me, and if they do, they absolutely never go through the trouble of leaving a message. It is startling the amount of acquaintances you can have without finding a true friend in any of them.

I have my phone pressed to my ear as I listen to the mechanical feminine voice as it instructs my to dial my password. I comply, wishing she’d hurry up all of her little explanations and let me hear my message. Once it does get to the message there is a long pause, the voice on the other line clearly hesitating to speak. At once I get the feeling of who it is, I can tell simply by the sound of her breath.

“….Ashley…. It’s Spencer…” As if she needs to tell me. “I uh… I miss you. I wanted to know your alright… Please call me back, I want to hear you- I mean hear from you… Bye.” It is obvious how much she is struggling to find the right words, and I can practically hear her pacing across the floor of her bed room.

With the message ended and saved on my voicemail, I quickly redial her number. I have been waiting 12 long months for this moment, and as the phone rings I can feel my heart thumping so loud it is deafening. There is the sound of someone picking up the phone, and I feel my breath catch in my throat.

“Spencer?” I inquire, voice croaking a bit because my vocal chords are so strained.

“Ashley…” She breaths my name like a sigh and it sends quivers running down my spine and making my skin tingle. All it takes is a word and I am melting. It is so unfair one person can do these things to me, although at this moment I wish this feeling would never stop.