Will the top keep spinning?

Fernando wants to stay at Liverpool! But now he will probably be killed by the creep in the middle, aka Liverpool's new signing, aka the guy that scored against Germany for Serbia.

Also, I will officially be doing an independent research project next semester. I found an advisor! Right now, I'm thinking hooliganism, masculinity, and Serbian football clubs during the civil war in Yugoslavia.

At 45,000. Will finish in two days. I have no idea how, though. I took some of your suggestions for this, but sadly, I couldn't take Jill's amazing suggestion. You may recognize some parts of this...

“You came back to break up with me, didn’t you?” She almost whispers, she is so afraid.

He is unable to look her in the eye.

“Yes,” he says simply.

When Sadie will look back on these moments, which she will many times a day, every day, for years—she won’t remember every detail. She won’t really remember how it started, or how it ended, or much in between the two. But there are some things that she will remember forever, as if it had happened yesterday. The scars that Brett was able to inflict, only with his words, would never go away.

This is how she will remember it. Some parts may not have happened exactly this way, and a lot of things were said that she wouldn’t remember at all. But this is it, courtesy of Sadie’s memories. Just line after line, heartbreak after heartbreak.

“I just don’t see this going anywhere.”

“This isn’t fun for me either, but when this happens one person always has to hurt more.”

“I don’t know how long it’s been that I’ve felt this way. I don’t have an exact date, or anything.” Sadie would never forget how much she thought that he was an a-hole as he said this.

“No, you can keep the sea glass earrings that I made for you. Those gently-worn remnants are so beachy!”

“Yes, I am taking this seriously.”

“No, there isn’t someone else.”

“I don’t know if I loved you. I know that I don’t now. I said it because I felt like I should.”

“If it helps, it was fun.”

It didn’t. It didn’t help at all. Brett’s words felt like knives, and there was nothing that she could do to avoid them. She simply sat at his desk mostly in a stunned silence, unable to accept what was happening. She didn’t know how she could still be alive after hearing all of these things that literally hurt her soul. How had Brett so quickly gone from someone that she loved and trusted and counted on to an enemy that she was afraid of?

More than anything, she would remember the look in his eyes as he spoke; it was completely devoid of emotion, sympathy or love. Had they always been this way, so soulless and empty?

It felt like Brett had explained why he was breaking up with her a thousand times, but she still didn’t understand. Her mind was recognizing this concept as foreign, and as if it was fighting off infection, it was rejected. All that she knew was that the man that she loved was telling her that he didn’t want her. But really, isn’t that all that she had to know?

At this point, you are probably hoping for some kind of vindication for our heroine who has never acted like one. Perhaps Sadie will say something particularly biting as she leaves Brett for the last time, and hurt him the way that he has hurt her. She could have said “I hate you,” but it probably would have sounded overly bitter, in addition to obviously being an incredible lie. She loved him, she always had, and unrequited love was written all over her face. She could have compared him to all manner of things—each one would have been deserved—but she did nothing of the sort. Instead, she acted pathetic; she always had been, so why stop here?

“I hope that you enjoy the rest of your summer,” she said as she closed the door to his apartment for the last time. And really, she was truly hopeful that he would have a good summer. Even when he caused her blinding pain and made her feel like she was dying, she had never stopped wanting the best for him.

Sadie is stunned. As she exits into the street, she simply moves in the direction of the crowd. She doesn’t care where she is going. It doesn’t matter, does it? What is the point in going anywhere, if she feels as if she doesn’t even exist? Sadie can’t go inside; it can’t contain her pain. She doesn’t want to go home—the real world is waiting for her there—but even if she did, she can’t remember how to get there.

Her mind can only really hold one thought at a time, and it is this: You are alone. You are unlovable.

* * *

The summer rain began to fall, forcing revellers in Boston’s North End to seek shelter under the many awnings scattered along the busy, bustling street. Rain is rarely welcome on hot summer evenings such as these, but on this particular occasion, many felt an odd sense of relief. It had been cloudy for days, inviting the inevitable rainstorm that always accompanied such sombre skies. Everyone had seen it coming, and had been dreading it. The rain that had finally come had felt like a release, freeing them from the burden that they all knew was unavoidable.

One girl stood out amongst those huddling together in an effort to avoid the downpour; she seemed completely oblivious, in fact. She trudged along the now-empty street, mindlessly staring forward, as if in a dream. Her brown hair was soaked, and hanging limply at the sides of her hollow-looking face. The t-shirt that she wore clung to her body like a second skin, emphasizing every slow movement that she made as she moved forward. While the rain obscured her tears, the aura of tragedy that surrounded her was visible to all. The kind of pain that emanated off of her drenched and cold body could not be overlooked or ignored; it’s the kind of pain that even though those around may not directly feel it, they all know it, and can feel it vicariously.

Theories are tossed around the onlookers’ minds as to what could possibly be the source of such palpable anguish. “Someone must have died,” many postulate. “Perhaps she was fired,” others think to themselves. But some of them, those that have felt it, know exactly what this is. That empty look, that appearance of being completely lost that is as plain on her face as anything, can only come from one thing: unrequited love.

This is the end. This is the beginning. This is everything.