His Slut Of The Week || Wattys 2016

Wake Up

I walk into the crowded classroom and hand the teacher my note, excusing me for being late. I kept my eyes on the floor, not making eye contact with anyone, as I make my way to my seat. Just to my luck, it's right in front of Drake.

Despite what my head was telling me to do, I risked a glance up at him. He was looking at me, and it hurt even more when I saw the way he looked.

Fine.

Nothing seemed different about him, but here I was, about to break down crying on the floor any second. It made me angry and I wanted to slap the stupid smile off his face, but instead, I sat in my seat and pulled out all of my supplies.

It took everything in me to get through the class without asking to leave or just running out myself. Even though was sitting in front of him, I could still smell his scent. In my head, I could hear his laugh and it made the sickness in my stomach even more relevant.

When the bell rang, I wasted no time rushing out of the door and towards my locker. People tried to talk to me but I ignored them and kept walking. I wouldn't talk to anyone. I couldn't talk to anyone. Then they'll ask what's wrong and I'll have to explain how Drake has made me feel.

I put in my combination and grab my binder for my next class before rushing off to get inside the safety of the class.

My phone starts buzzing from my pocket, and when I pull it out, it's another text from Drake.

I'm sorry.

That is when I lost it. Tears fell one after another. I ran out of the classroom and towards the girl's bathroom. I opened one of the stalls and locked myself inside. My breathing was heavy and shallow at the same time.

I let my fingernails dig into my skin harder and harder with every passing second because it was easier than the pain that I felt. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried waking myself up, thinking that this must be some kind of messed up dream.

"Wake up!" I cried to myself. "WAKE UP!" I screamed before breaking down into another round of sobs. I played down on the floor next to the toilet with my knees to my chest. One hand laid on my chest where my heart was, and it clutched my clothing with a firm grip.

I start to stand up but a swelling of sickness rises in my stomach. I empty my breakfast into the toilet next to me, and start crying again. I close my eyes once more, trying to calm myself down, but behind my eyelids are a montage of memories.

I can see him lying next to me in my bed, the way the pillow formed to his head perfectly. I know I was the one who did he wrong, and I should have just stayed where I was in the diner. Maybe Jayce wouldn't have ever seen us.

The emptiness in my chest is taking over, and I feel like a horrible person. Why does he have me feeling like the horrible person when he is the one who left me?