𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐄

PART III

Said you can't fully be into me 'cause you with him
Then why the fuck when we link
It's like he doesn't exist?
They all know that we're friends
But we both aware that it's more
Everything I got, if you say the word, then it's your

REIGN

Hell.

My mother used to tell me stories about it. Having grown up in a pastor's family, my mother did have a religious upbringing, and it ended up drawing her away. Despite this, she maintained her belief in God. She would frequently reflect on the spiritual lessons. She would still share tales with me about God, even though she was no longer close to the church. It was a place beyond our comprehension. Personalized to reflect our own deepest, darkest fears. A place of repulsion, pain, and hurt, delivered to those who'd sinned.

I haven't don much wrong in my life, but since my recent decisions I was starting to realize that this is the beginning of the end.

My own hell

Far worse than I could have ever imagined.

I threw my phone to the end of the bed, threw an incredibly soft pillow over my face, and screamed. Saying I was tired was an understatement. The exhaustion I felt was overwhelming, as if every ounce of energy had been drained from my body. My mind and body craved nothing more than a peaceful escape into a deep sleep. My mind drifted to that night at the restaurant. I was thinking about how sexy Michael looked. As I closed my eyes, the memory of his charming smile and the way he effortlessly made me feel warmed my body in places I never thought existed. I longed to relive those moments—to feel his touch and hear his voice whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

I rolled onto my back, feeling the softness of the pillow beneath my head. My gaze drifted to the picture of Calvin and me on our first date, a fond smile playing at the corners of my lips.

Suddenly, I felt a jolt beside me. Turning my head, I saw Calvin wide awake, his expression tense. Confusion and concern flickered across his face as he sat up abruptly, his breathing rapid and shallow.

"Calvin, what's wrong?" I asked, my voice tinged with worry.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "I don't know," he replied, his voice hoarse. "I just... I need some water."

I watched as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his movements unsteady. He reached for his slippers and slipped them on before standing up, his body feeling unnaturally warm to the touch.

As he made his way to the door, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong. Calvin was usually such a deep sleeper; whatever had woken him must have been terrifying.

I watched him disappear into the darkness of the hallway, his silhouette barely visible in the dim light. And as I lay there, my mind racing with worry, I couldn't help but wonder what had caused him to wake in such a panic. His arms stretched out blindly ahead of him as he squinted his eyes to try and force them to adjust to the dark. "Did you hear me? I need water." I nodded grunting out of bed. Swifting i got a glass of ice water and brought to him, placing it on the nightstand beside him. He sipped for a minute and got pof of bed to the bathroom with out saying a word.

Guilt flilled my stomach to the point of nausea. I rolled out of bed and trudged over to the desk, where I had set up my laptop. I spent the next two hours finishing my essay, followed by fifteen minutes of counting each gray rectangle etched into the carpet.

As I stared at the carpet, my mind wandered back to the picture on the nightstand. The guilt weighed heavily on me, reminding me of the promises I had broken and the trust I had betrayed. Knowing Calvin was beyond wrong from the moment he put his hands on me, I couldn't help but feel sorry for myself, and I couldn't conclude a reason why. I couldn't help but question why I allowed myself to be in that situation and why I hadn't spoken up sooner. The conflicting emotions of anger, sadness, and self-pity consumed me as I continued to stare at the carpet, searching for answers that seemed elusive.