Shea Winters

(In her bedroom. She’s pacing, rehearsing an apology.)
I don’t know what I was thinking. It was a flash in the moment, I—I panicked. The words just (she gestures) tumbled out of me. Escaped me. (She sounds breathless, almost like she’s just ran a marathon.) I didn’t mean it, I swear, I…I don’t know what happened. What took over me. It was a mistake. I panicked. One moment we were…(swallows) and then, because of my stupid mouth, we weren’t. And there was nothing more to be said after it. Nothing I felt that I could do. I couldn’t pull them back in, I—I didn’t have the strength to. It was like a dam broke inside of me and everything I had been holding in gushed out, and I just had to sit there, and let it spurt out for a while. (Shaky) And when it was done, I had nothing left in me. Nothing left. It felt— (she inhales sharply, like taking a gulping air before submerging in water) it felt as if I had been drained. (She pauses, thinks, sits down on the bed.) It felt as if I had given everything, my heart, (she rests a hand over her chest) my head, my love, my everything. I had given it all, and yet…You have to forgive me. You have to…reconsider. Remember the good times. Remember when we first met (she smiles to herself). It’s gone sour but we can get that back. Can’t we? (She looks around her empty room, looks to her hands in her lap.) I don’t know what happened. When the love spoiled, and we both became so bitter. And I so angry. I didn’t use to be like this. I think…I think it happened gradually. Like erosion. Slowly, the happy parts of me, the ones you loved, the ones I loved, chipped away. (She sniffs.) I didn’t mean to become this. I wanted us to be happy, together. Maybe I was too insecure or too selfish or demanding, always expecting, always hoping, always wanting more. Or maybe. I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t enough. Maybe you—I’m sorry. I know it was mean, what I said. I shouldn’t have said anything, I should’ve let it go. I just couldn’t bear the weight of it any longer, all the pressure building. The heat. But I’ll be better in the future. I’ll learn to be grateful for what I have. I will. I love you. (It sounds wrong, almost like a question. She tries again, with more certainty.) I love you. I do. I have to—I do. Please. (She releases a sigh, puts her head in her hands. Fades out.)