Etching Our Way (Broken Tracks 1)

#ONEBRAIN

James blunt—Goodbye my lover

This never should have happened. I’m a man in all sense of the word, but right now in this situation, I feel completely emasculated. I feel powerless in the fact that I have no choice in what I’m doing or what I’m saying.

I shouldn’t have had to do this, I should be able to make my own choices, but I can’t. I’m doing this for her.

To protect her.

I watch as tears stream down her face, mixing in with the rain that is pouring down from the rolling gray clouds in the sky. Her chest heaves on every breath, her arms wrapping around her middle as she tries to keep herself together.

All I want to do is wrap my arms around her and let her head rest in the nook of my neck that’s made especially for her.

My foot moves, taking a step forward but I stop myself, pushing my shoulders back and doing the right thing.

I have to do this.

I have to walk away.

I take one step backward, then another, my eyes not leaving hers as I do.

“Tris...”

I spin around at the sound of her voice, not being able to bear seeing her fall apart for a moment longer. Each step I take toward my car feels heavier than the last—like I’m wading through mud—and it’s getting harder and harder to walk away.

“Tristan!”

I turn back to face her, my heart cracking and my soul disintegrating when I see how hurt and utterly broken she is.

I open my mouth, shouting at her that, “We’re done,” because it’s all I can do to make sure that she never tries to fix this. If she does—no, I won’t allow myself to think about what he’d do to her, to her family.

I slide into my car, my wet clothes that are soaked from all of the rain instantly wet the seat and make it creak with each movement. It only takes two seconds until my eyes find her again, sitting in front of our willow tree, trying her hardest to pull herself together, but failing miserably.

I can’t stay and watch; I may have caused it, but I won’t watch as she breaks into a thousand tiny pieces.

I turn the key in the ignition and drive out of there without a second look back, ripping our hearts in two as I go.

Adele—Turning Tables

Lea Michele—Battlefield

As I drive home, the feeling of anxiety runs through my veins like an electric current. Eight years together—seven years married—and it’s come to this. But I have to tell him how I feel, I can’t go on like this any longer.

Our marriage was great at first; solid and comforting. We had so many things in common,

especially our love of art. All of that seems to have been forgotten about lately, instead it's turned into the biggest grievance between us. I’ve tried. I’ve tried so damn hard these last few years, but nothing seems to be working.

My heart pounds and my body temperature spikes the closer I get to our marital home. I keep telling myself that I can do this; I’m a big girl.