Just A Woman (The Porter Trilogy Book 2) Read Free Page B

friend, and I doubt anyone is going to follow this stupid blog anyways.
    Anywho, I know why my doctor wants me to write. I’ve been to see him three times since the day of the “UB” (that’s “Ultimate Betrayal” for those of you who don’t know me) and I haven’t said a word. I feel bad wasting his time and my money, but I’m just not ready to vocalize the events of the past few weeks. Maybe he’s right, though. Maybe typing it out will help. Besides, as I said earlier, it’s not like anyone is really reading this besides my doctor, so if this is the way I can open up and let him know my feelings, than I guess it’s what I will do.
    I also feel really bad that I haven’t told my mom anything. Nothing at all. I just can’t break the news and hurt her even more. I know she’s scared for me. Hell, I’m scared for me, but I don’t want my mom to be scared anymore. So, for now, I’ll keep her in the dark, unless she needs to know. Anyways, here’s the scoop.
    It’s been thirteen heart wrenching days since I spliced my soul into two pieces, taking one with me and leaving one with the man who completes me. (WOW! Talk about a flair for drama. Maybe I should be a writer. Future career, here I come).
    No, but seriously, in all honesty, the last thirteen days have been utter agony. I feel like some magnet for betrayal. First, from a girl I thought was my friend and then ‘him’. I can’t call him by his name. I just refer to him as ‘him’. It hurts too much to think about him. My best friend likes to call him other names, and before I may have laughed, but right now, I can’t laugh. I don’t have the strength in me. And nothing really feels funny at the moment. I’ve never really experienced heartbreak before, and I’m not being dramatic when I say, it’s excruciating.
    I don’t know if I’m ready to divulge the entire encounter of my life or exactly why I am the way that I am, but I will say this. Eight years ago, I was attacked, raped and left for dead, and my unborn baby, conceived of rape, was figuratively ripped from my womb by the same man that put him there. I spent eight years trying to patch the hole in my soul. It didn’t work. I was broken for a very long time. Sure, I laughed and seemed normal, but inside, I was a shell.
    Until the day I had a job interview with ‘him’. I couldn’t stand him at first. He was an arrogant, pompous jackass, but I could never deny the electricity between us. Anytime he was near, my heart palpitated and my hands were clammy. After such a short time, he started stitching me back together. I fell hard for him. I fell hard and fast. That was probably my first mistake. I shouldn’t have let him in, but I did, and for a short time, my life felt whole. 
    But then, I found out he had delivered the ultimate betrayal and he crushed my world. Thirteen days ago, the hole within me ripped wide open, raw and bloody, and threatened to tear me apart. Thirteen days ago, I died a little more inside. I never thought I would experience something worse than the shit I dealt with in the past, but I was so wrong. Getting your heart broken is worse than anything that can happen to your body. This damages your mind and your spirit and your emotional wellbeing.
    Tomorrow would be two full weeks living in this hell, but tomorrow will be the last day I grieve. Tomorrow will be the last day I live in this hole of mine. I will dig myself out and find myself. I may need a goddamn ladder, but I refuse to fall. If not for me, then for my family. I can’t live in this hell anymore. I need to start feeling again, and I need to move on. It may be with only half a heart and without the ability to fall in love again, but it’s what I need to do, and, before anyone chimes in, I have no desire to fall in love again; I don’t care how young I am. This is not something I will ever bounce back from.
    I may have found my soulmate, and loved him more than words, and he may have hurt me more,