A Letter's Journey: What Hurts the Most

I apologize for leaving you hanging on this story for so long. I just didn't have the energy to continue until now.

For the previous edition, click here.

"Why not go?" Domonique asked herself. Well, she could think of a million reasons. For starters, she didn't want to hear his incessant ramblings about what he hated about his life. She also didn't want to be badgered about things that happened years ago. She didn't want to hear about any negative things. Domonique just wanted a simple, quiet dinner. Was that too much to ask?

Maybe this time will be different. Who knows he might be glad to see me? Ugh. She was doing it again. Dominique was torturing herself with countless what if scenarios that might not even happen.

In the midst of her tug a war with her mind and heart, a song came on the radio. She paused her pacing on the floor to see what was playing. Wouldn't you know it was What Hurts the Most by Rascal Flatts? How ironic. That was exactly how she felt.

"Starting now, I'm taking control of my life. No more reasoning through this mess. I'm living my life for me," she said out loud to no one in particular. But....

That song was quietly playing in the background. Oh, that song. It could creep in at the worst of times. She felt the anger rising up within her with each beat that sounded through the stereo.

"What hurts the most

Was not being close

And watchin' you act a fool

'Cause ya didn't even have a clue!" Dominique belted out in her living room clad in her favorite flannel pajamas. She was making up the words to express how she felt. She couldn't control his actions, but she could let all of her frustrations out in this song.

And never knowing...

Dominique could feel her chest getting tighter as she tried to utter the next words. They came out barely above a whisper, but she was determined to not let her grief overtake her.

"What could have been

And not seein' that savin' you

Is what we were tryin' to do..."

Dominique collapsed into the pillows on her couch. She didn't even care that her mascara was running down her cheeks. She let herself sob for a good hour. She let go of all the hurt from the missed birthdays, hateful words, and pain from the last ten years. Dominique decided to go to bed. Tomorrow was a new day. She would decide about the dinner later. Right now, her body was more than willing to get beneath the covers and stay awhile.

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