I dreamed about this moment since the day I met him.

His flushed face gazing at me, so expressive and emotive that it was hard not to be lost in his passionate gaze. His strong hands would grip me and hold me close, and I would do the same to him.

Sometimes the dreams would end there, sometimes they carried on to the point where I could feel the heat in my cheeks just thinking about it. Such beautiful dreams they all were.

Then she appeared.

She was certainly pretty but nothing I would class as noteworthy, until I noticed his eyes start to wonder over to her whenever they were in the same room. He’s always had a wandering eye and I’ve learnt to deal with it in my own way. What I wouldn’t accept was the fact she started to return the looks.

It started off casual, talking by lockers, on the way to lessons, on the way to the bus. I kept an eye on them but stayed a distance, not wanting him to feel smothered.

Then it took off from there. He and I would be in a lesson and his phone would suddenly buzz with messages from her. I didn’t want to seem too invasive so I only took a casual glance when they popped up, memorising the text before he caught my staring.

I felt bad for her, honestly. You could tell from the giggles and the gentle touches that she was really into him, but she had no chance. Not with him.

In fact, that was my original plan, to confront her and let her know about me when I saw it. I rubbed my eyes and did a double take but there it was, clear as day. He pulled her in for a kiss.

The tears were falling before I could stop them. How could he? We might not be together but surely he felt the same pull as me, he must have. To throw it all away for her, a woman he’s only known for a few months, compared to the lifetime I was willing to give to him!

My sadness turned to rage. My broken heart turned sharp. I waited and watched as she finally left him alone. He was grinning, the traitor, looking at his phone. I took my chance.

It was all a blur after I took that first step, after he glanced towards me, his lopsided grin still in place. I just remember a struggle, hair pulling, nails clawing, and then he was below me.

His strong hands weren’t so good now as they attempted to pry mine away from his throat. The love in his eyes had spoiled into pure terror, cheeks flushed as he struggled for air. I didn’t realise how strong I was, how weak he was compared to the blind rage and adrenaline that made my hands tighten into vices.

If he wasn’t going to love me, he wasn’t going to love anyone.