Eli Goldsworthy is insane. I've known it since the moment we first met. Something in his eyes, in his smile… There's a fire burning inside of him that almost nothing can put out. Not even my warmest smile or tightest hug. If anything, my love fuels the fires of his psychosis.
He's confirmed his insanity to me time after time, but I can't seem to stay away.
He loves me one moment, hates me the next. His hate is so extreme that it brings me to my knees in utter agony. It brings sobs to my throat that makes me choke and panic and curl up into myself in complete devastation. His lack of regard for my heart can be so poisonous and earth-shattering. In seconds, he can leave me in shambles, suffering at the blow of his words.
My pain always seems to bring him back to reality, though. My tears snap him out of the rage and back into my heart, my arms. He sees my tears and he cries his own. He feels my pain. He feels guilt and self-loathing and regret. He looks me in the eyes and always says the same, worn-out line…
"I did this to you. How could I do this to you?"
He rocks me back and forth and whispers apologies in my ringing ears. He gently runs a hand through my hair…
"Clare… I love you too much. Too much."
I know what he means. Love can make normal people do the most bizarre things, like jump off of 5 story buildings and travel the world and change their life's plans. Love is so powerful.
Love makes normal people crazy. And like I said, Eli is insane.
Love is a powerful narcotic to Eli. It powers his life source. It makes his decisions for him. Logic is lost on him when his heart is swollen with love. Affection. Lust. Possession… Obsession.
I love Eli, but I'm not quite as irrational as him…
Despite my rationality, some may see me at this very moment and think that Clare Edwards has all but lost her mind.
I'm sitting on my windowsill, my feet dangling below me in the more-than-chilly Canadian air. The stuffed panda bear that Eli gave me on our 2-year anniversary is gripped safely under my right armpit. I live in a second story room, so I know it's an odd site to see, a girl sitting in her window with a toy. Luckily, it's also 3am and nobody has been by in hours…
I know, I'm not doing much to plead my sanity here, but I think I have a perfectly acceptable reason to be up here, staring out into the big bad world…
I crush my stuffed panda bear between my arms and let out a dry laugh. I'm 18 years old. My life is certifiably insane, as is my boyfriend. Eli and I have come such a long way, yet it seems like we're still young, naïve kids sometimes…
I wonder who Eli is right now… Is he in love with me? Is he my Eli? My sweet, loving Eli?
Or is he the Eli that will yell, scream, avoid eye contact and make me feel like the smallest, most insignificant piece of trash in his complex world?
If I call him right now and beg him to come over, will he run to me without a second thought? My Eli would do anything for me.
Or will he ignore my calls and texts? Will he act like I'm not important? Will he deflect my love because he's so afraid of screwing up, of hurting me, of being hurt? It's so hard to tell who he will be on any given day.
Quite frankly, being with Eli is exhausting. We've been on and off for the past three years, emphasis on the off part. This time, we've been together for a year and a month without breaking up. That's astronomical for our relationship. And when Eli is himself and is treating me like a princess, I'm happy and grateful and optimistic for our future and our current streak of not breaking up.
But when he's the other Eli, I pray that God will give me the strength to leave him and never come back.
I've obviously not been granted that divine strength yet, but perhaps next time I'm sobbing on the ground and Eli is screaming at me, God will pick me up and carry me away.
That probably won't ever happen. It would be even harder to leave Eli now…
Which brings me to my perfectly acceptable excuse for sitting in my window at 3am.
I, Clare Edwards, am having a baby.
There, I said it.
I'm unmistakably, undeniably pregnant with Eli Goldsworthy's baby. I confirmed this terrifying reality by peeing on 5 pregnancy tests last night and getting 5 little pink plus signs from every unholy one of them.
Crazy, unstable, insane Eli is the father of my unborn child. Eli, who crashed his own hearse in a fit of panicked desperation, is going to be a father. The same Eli who breaks my heart and fixes it over and over again, is the Eli who will hold a little life in his arms, a little life that we created together.
Terrifying and beautiful thoughts…
The wind is picking up and my bare feet are white and freezing. People are starting to pass with a higher frequency now. I have no idea how long I've been out here, what time it is, or what I'm going to do when I climb back into my room. These moments on the roof are my last moments to think before I make a decision. How am I going to tell Eli?
You may think that I'm oddly calm and level-headed, given my terrifying circumstances. I just don't think it's hit me yet. I can say the words aloud, but they aren't registering with the rest of me.
I just want Eli to hold me, to rock me back and forth and to make me forget those 5 unholy pink plus signs.
I climb back into my room and grab the phone off of my bedside table. It's now 6:27 a.m. It's Saturday.
It's time to find out which Eli he is today.
As I dial the number, I say a silent prayer and swallow back nervous bile.
Here. We. Go.
Well, I've been awake all night and the inspiration for this hit me like a ton of bricks. Thoughts? Suggestions? This is definitely not a one-shot and will probably have close to 30 or 40 detailed chapters. There will be a lot of drama. A LOT OF DRAMA. I tend to like angsty romance and cutesy drama, so keep reading if you like that. Please review and such so I can know if people are actually reading/enjoy. Thanks so much!