No. I refused to believe it. The one I love stolen from me by some tanned thickhead? Never!

My hands clenched at my sides as I glared at the line where the ceiling and wall met. How could I have let this happen? She was supposed to be with me, not him.

This is the reason why she and I fought. I did so much for her, but she just wouldn't listen to me. I tried to do nice things for her, tried to give her all I could, but she made it so hard.

I remembered the time I'd taken her somewhere nice, a café, to celebrate the day before our first anniversary, and she turned a lovely lunch date into a fight by snapping at me for pre ordering her food. I'd remembered it was her favorite, so I got it for her. I'd had everything arranged, but she took one little detail and blew it out of proportion.

So many times she'd done something like that. I tried to contain my anger when that happened- I really did- but she made it impossible. It was all I could do to not actually hurt her. Many times I just wanted to cry out of frustration.

This was one of those times.

I'd come all this way just for her. I was going to try and win her back, but here she comes in and says that she doesn't love me anymore? How is that possible? You can't just move on from loving someone. Did she even mean it when she said it to me? I did. I meant it then and I meant it now.

If only I wasn't so hot tempered. If only my father hadn't made me like that, always hitting me when I did any little thing wrong. If only he hadn't taught me how to fight. If only I'd been more patient. If only...

What was I supposed to do now? No doubt my mother was going to practically shove her "motherly love" down my throat now. I loved the woman, but from a distance. She'd sooner smother me with a pillow by accident while trying to make sure I'm comfy than just leave me to my own devices.

And my father... He loathed me. He pretended in front of my mother, but we both knew how he truly felt. I didn't become a carpenter like he wanted. Instead, I became a private investigator for the police. I didn't carry on the family legacy simply because I sucked. He could whittle out a perfect little Dragon from a block of wood where I couldn't even make a simple geometric figure. He didn't care, though.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, Michael," he'd said one day when we were alone. "You aren't good enough for that sweet girl."

"You don't even bother with her name," I'd replied shortly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he'd practically growled. "You best watch your tone with me 'fore that wall has an imprint of your back in it."

All I could reply with was an obliged, "Yes, sire," and leave it at that.

I sighed sadly and closed my eyes. I was so tired. Every inch of my body ached. My insides felt raw and my heart felt clenched with pain and desperation. I truly missed her. I missed her smiles, her laughter, the feeling of her smooth skin under my fingertips. I missed how easily her hand slipped into mine whenever we'd walk side by side. I missed how easy it was for us to fall in step with each other.

Now that was all gone.

Because I was selfish.

Because I was an idiot.

Because I was mean.

Because I was me.

Maybe I could change. Maybe I still stood a chance. She hadn't said exactly that she and that "Mark" fellow were dating. Perhaps she'd meant that he'd helped her move on.

Helped her to stop loving me.

I opened my eyes again and this time glanced up at the ceiling as a tear welled at the corner of my eye before dropping down to trail through the middle of my temple and past the top of my ear. The tickling sensation was annoying, but I payed little to no attention to it.

I'd lost my saving grace.

My heart.

My angel.

My love.

Myself.