I only feel bad.
Guilty. Like always.
I'm always feeling so fucking guilty.
Swallowing thickly, I try not to look around Jamie's apartment as I hunt for my shoes and purse. Except, the cozy plaid blanket on the back of the large couch in front of the fireplace makes each step even harder.
When I notice the purple mug by the coffeepot, I falter but continue. Spying my jacket hanging by the door along with my purse, I hustle toward them.
I can't get out of here fast enough. Yet I feel like I'm dragging my feet. Jamie's apartment has such a cozy vibe that's trying to suck me in. At least that's what I'm going to tell myself.
Quietly, I pull my jacket and shoes on. I've escapedJamie's home more times than I can count, yet it gets harder and harder each time. The door snicks shut behind me, and I rush for the elevator. Blinking rapidly once I'm in the small box, I try to keep the memories at bay.
Jamie with his cold hand under my shirt, but not grabbing my boob.He held my lower back with a gentleness that I can still feel.
I blink again and shake my head.
But then...Jamie's lips are under my jaw as he bends his knees to reach my sensitive spots.
No, I can't think about this right now. I'm leaving his darn apartment and going home.
Jamie pins me to the wall and lifts me up as he stands to his full height again. The only thing that stops us from ripping each other’s clothes off right here and now is the ding of the elevator door opening.
Ding!
Jolting, I puff out a breath and rush for the main entrance. I already told Cassidy not to pick me up this morning, and with how distraught I am, I'm glad.
Snow falls from the sky, and I thank the chilly flakes for their ability to ground me. It's less than a twenty-minute walk home, but I feel like I might need much longer to clear my head of that man.
With each step away from his apartment building, the tension in my body increases.This shouldn't feel this wrong.
Six
VIOLET
Idon’t know what I'm doing anymore. All of my choices seem super messed up.
My night with Jamie has been playing on repeat in my mind. Over and over again, I recall how manipulative I was. This isn't who I want to be.
Sniffling, I press my forehead further into my bare knees. I'm huddled on my bathroom floor wondering if I can swing another road trip this week. Getting away sounds great, but I don't think I can make it work.
I can't stop wondering what Jamie wanted to say to me before I offered my body to him. Filling in the blanks hasn't been helping my mood. My phone has been taunting me for two days—call him.
But calling means talking, and we don't do that. I feel freaking sick to my stomach.
What I'm doing isn't working, but I have no idea what else to do. Every move I make adds to the anxiety that steals my happiness every day. Second-guessing has become my personality.
A cramp assaults my tummy, making me blow out a pained breath. My period is always worse when I'm home. Being on the road and focusing on my adventures is the perfect distraction. Or maybe it's the exercise. Or the fact that my stress is only related to the hike.
I'm a minimalist. One backpack, a fanny pack, and my camera are all I need on my trips. Home-cooked meals like the ones Cassidy likes to make are always missed, but a good apple and a protein-packed granola bar do the job when I'm away.
Life is much simpler outside of the city. Away from people.
Life is easier on the run from the things that make me feel.
Feelings fucking suck. I'm not like my mama with her potty mouth, but some statements definitely deserve the F word. Feelings, good or bad, result in anxiety for me these days.
Here's another example: My intellectual and emotional confidence is fucked.
