Civil war

Three years ago, B. broke our engagement, and my heart. He went back to his ex girlfriend, Anja, a plain-face Polish girl, and they decided to move to France. I’d better say, she decided that they were moving to France.
A heart can be broken and still go on beating, they say. So, when I got an offer for a good job in France, I moved as well.
They didn’t know about it, I wasn’t some kind of crazy stalker. I was just in love, and this way I was closer to B.

From mutual friends, I knew that Anja was possessive; she had a lot of drama and a lot of issues going on and had always been like that.
I would have been possessive as well: B. had already dumped her once (for me). And I remember very well what it means to have a man girls literally throw themselves at in bars, even when you’re standing next too him. Yes, B. is that handsome.

And then, just like that, the world got crazy, the national strike that had been going on for weeks evolved into riots in the streets, huge blackout due to the molotovs that had been thrown to the electricity complex, curfew were imposed and not respected. All in a sudden, we were living through what seemed a civil war.
Foreigners were the first target of angry workers, and I knew that. So, I went to seek for B. and Anja, since I may be a dork but I’m not a heartless bitch.
I had found a car and enough fuel to quit the country and go back, and I knew their address, so I just loaded a few things on the car and headed to their place, hoping to avoid the riots.
I almost didn’t make it in time: their building was on fire, and they were standing on the street, just watching. But I knew it wouldn’t take long for them to get in trouble, as people we running around and things were tense.
So I made my way through the rubble, opened the window and shouted them: “Get in the car!!! Now!!!”

Now, Anja had never met me, and I don’t think she did recognize me.
B., was so shocked he just did as he was told.

IT was hard, but we managed to get out of the city, and from there on things went pretty smooth. As soon as we crossed the border, I handed B. some pills and he made Anja take them, so she collapsed sleeping on the back seat.

We didn’t talk much, I drove for almost 30 hours without any stop. The adrenaline kept me going, but by the time we got home, to our origins, I was shaking. B. told me he would come to see me on the next day, I just nodded, gave him the keys of the car, and knocked on my mother’s door. She opened, started to cry of joy seeing me home and safe, and I quickly collapsed on the bed.

On the following afternoon, after I had managed to wake up, take a shower and so on, B. kept his words and he came. He thanked me, and then kissed me. We went for a walk, hand in hand, and laid on the grass, where he took me into his arms.
But when I said “I’m glad you’re back”, he answered “I’m not leaving Anja, DDgirl”.
I stood up, and howled, tears streaming down my face.

And I woke up in my bed, in Lyon, crying. It took me a while to realize it was a dream, that KS, my love was sleeping next to me, that everything was fine, that B. was gone a long time ago and I’m happy now. Breathe, DDgirl, breathe.