I open my eyes slowly. My whole body hurts. My head's pounding. My stomach is sick... and down there... down there...
I bit my lip as I'm trying to sit up. The pain is stronger than I thought it would be. Of course I realized how it would feel the next day, I just didn't realize it would be this bad. Fearfully, I open the bedcover that's been covering me and remove Allen's hand that's been draped around me. As I look down, I feel sick.
There's blood. On the white sheet. Just a little. But evident. I choke back the tears that's threatening to come down and immediately get up, ignoring the pain that still makes me stumble on my feet.
I put on my clothes shakily, as hurried as I can while trying to make as little noise as possible, completely ignoring the sharp pain all over my body. I grab some tissue from the living room table and head to the kitchen to damp them with some water and stagger back to the bed, carefully removing the stain we made on it.
I really don't want Allen to see it. I thought as I desperately clean the sheet. "Shit," I curse under my breath when I finally realized it can't be cleaned thoroughly. I feel like laughing. Out of nowhere. But a single tear rolls down my cheek. I brush it harshly with the back of my hand and get up quickly. I hiss loudly when the pain stings me. Allen stirs in his sleep and I hold my breath. When I'm sure he's not waking up, I decide.
I have to get out of here.
I walk as fast as my body allows me to. Limping so pathetically to the door. I close Allen's door silently behind me and start walking to my own.
It's still pretty early. I'm really glad that these morons still passed out drunk. None of them seems about to wake up anytime soon. I smile bitterly as I scan the room. My eyes fall on Chuck who is sleeping soundly, peacefully on my bed.
I suddenly feel so nauseous. Limping to the bathroom, closing and locking the door. I turn on the shower then fall on my knees in front of the toilet bowl before spilling my insides in it.
I feel so pathetic. Sick to my stomach. Disgusted.
I can't believe we did that. I can't believe I did that.
I can't believe I'm such a slut. A fucking whore.
No. Worse than a whore.
Whores don't sleep with a friend who has a girlfriend who's also a friend.
I'm the worst.
I crawl into the tub, sill in my clothes and clasped my hand to my mouth before I start to sob uncontrollably. I would've screamed but I didn't. Though I want to. I want to scream so bad. But instead, I just bite my lower lip to prevent any noise from coming out.
I feel so pathetic.
So dirty.
I think my lip's bleeding.
Good.
I hope I'd just bleed to death. Silly, my lip's the one bleeding, not my gut or anywhere else. Well, not quite true. Down there bled earlier...
Fuck!
This is my fear of facing Allen or Joy, or both, talking. I'm a mess.
And, no. I am not crying because of said fear. I am crying because the guilt is eating me alive. I feel guilty for sleeping with Allen, for letting last night happened. But most of all, I feel guilty for wanting it to happen. For Allen to kiss me, to take me in his arms, to make love to me.
Well, to have sex with me, to be exact. I am not so delusional as to think that he, even remotely, slightly, in love with me. As I am with him.
Yes. I'm admitting it. I am in love with my new best bud.
As pathetic as it sounds, it feels way more pathetic.
I don't know how that happened. I don't even know when that did happen and at this point, I no longer care. All I know now is that I love him. I'm head over heels for him and it hurts. It freaking hurts.
Because after last night, he's still isn't mine.
And by this morning, I am reminded that he will never be mine.
I get out of the shower after what seems to be the longest pity party in the history of heartbreak. But then again, I also took a real shower so... yeah, not that long I guess.
I put on my clothes and dry my hair before going back to my room. Limping a little, I approach the bed and sit beside Chuck. I stare at his peacefully sleeping face.
I lay my body down next to him and snuggle close to him. Probably sensing it's me (Chuck will never let any other dude do this to him and no one dares to either) he instinctively wraps his arms around me, one under my waist, one under my head, pulling me closer to him as I bury my face in his chest.
I sigh heavily. These arms' and Marsha's always manage to make me feel safe. Even without doing anything. Just by them touching me, and I look at them, I can always feel better immediately, even just slightly.
Chuck and Marsha... How will they react when they found out what I've done, though?
Will they be disappointed? Or will they be angry? Or both? Will they hate me, though? I'm good with them being disappointed and/or angry with me... But them hating me? I don't think I can handle that.
I sigh again and close my eyes.
I really need to sleep. I am beyond exhausted. Both my body and soul feels like they're stretched very thin. But in my head, scenes of last night keep on repeating, reminding me of what I've done. I try to shift my thoughts to a more happy memories.
Back and forth my mind shifts.
I guess the exhaustion and the guilt finally take my strength away because soon I can feel myself slowly drifting, and this time, I sleep better than last night.