I stumbled blindly into my room, barely aware of what I was doing. Flipping thorough my CDs, I searched for something to rage to. He’d thrown out all my ‘pretentious, shoe-gazing indie’ and replaced it with his own band’s conceptual metal. Yet another thing I’d given up for him.

I threw his demos out the window, listening to them shatter against the pavement. Shoving in one of the few CDs I’d managed to salvage, I turned up the volume.

Next, I turned to the photos. Picture after picture of us smiling, laughing, together. Had he been lying then? I ripped them all into pieces.

Suddenly, I knew what I had to do. Freedom was so close. I grabbed the CD and jumped into my car, starting towards his house.

But as I drove, only two things made sense. There was the bridge, and there was the song playing loudly. That was it. I stepped on the gas.

And all at once, like magic, he didn’t matter, and neither did I. There was nothing but the icy water and my final breath rushing out of my lungs.