Fuck. How could I be so stupid?
"You fucking idiot!" I scream at Alex and he turns to me in shock, slowly getting up from the bed.
"You didn't even bother to put a condom on?" I hiss at him.
"I don't- don't remember," he stutters and looks at me.
I can't believe it... no. It cannot be real.
"Get out," I mutter and he gets out of the bed as fast as he can.
Fuck. Now I'll have to get plan b. I will get it this morning, it's fucking four AM.
Now thinking back to how Derek reacted...
He was jealous. Without any shade of doubt, but why?
I always push him away, I treat him badly and the only thing that is between us is attraction.
I admit it. I'm attracted to Derek. Nothing more.
Maybe he got the wrong idea.
Flashes of him smiling at me, hugging me, and saving me from dangerous situations flood my mind and I involuntarily smile.
No, Ronnie, get it together. I can't let my guard down. I don't like Derek.
I don't like Derek. I don't care what he thinks of me. I don't care that he caught me...
My eyes are watery. Why do I feel this way? Why is my heart breaking at the sole thought of his disappointed face?
All I want to do is find him, tell him-
What? Tell him what? I have no excuse for it, nor it would make any sense. He means nothing to me. And I mean nothing to him, right?
I get up from the bed but I trip and end up falling, I can still feel the alcohol pumping through my body. I feel disgusting. I feel worthless, all over again.
I can't shake the feeling of regret that invades my mind every time I think about what I did with Alex, what I did to Derek.
The party is still going and although people aren't as loud, the music is.
I slowly close the door behind me, standing in the hallway.
Two people are kissing right in front of me and I just walk past them.
I want to talk to Derek but I know I shouldn't. I shouldn't act like I did something bad because it would express that he means something to me.
As I wobble walking to the kitchen, my eyes fall on Olivia and Derek... being super close and flirty with each other.
I push back some tears threatening to come out. I never felt anything like this before.
It's not disappointed. No.
I'm hurt.
Every time he talks she tilts her head back, laughing obnoxiously. I just stare at them in disbelief for a couple of seconds, trying to not cry.
I deserve this. I walk to the kitchen counters and I look for the vodka and I drink straight from it.
The burning liquid lingering down my throat but I don't stop. I can't, I'm too sober for this. I can't look at them.
I have no right to be jealous, or to be sad over it. I pushed him away.
I press so hard on the bottle that it could shatter in my hands, and I aggressively place it back on the counter.
A few people turn to me and look at me strangely while I just roll my eyes at them.
I take a glance at them again, and they are gone.
I quickly grab a pack of cigarettes and lighter from the table, it's not even mine but I don't care.
I walk out to my backyard and as soon as I close the door, I lean against it, slowly falling.
I let out everything, I cry as hard as I can. Not caring that my neighbors could hear me, although the houses are quite distant.
I lit a cigarette and bring it to my lips, the bitter taste takes over and I spit it on the ground.
I never smoke, although I have tried it, I always preferred weed over it.
The smoke gets too heavy and I cough, while a few other tears roll down my cheek.
"I'm so gross..." I murmur and take another puff.
I hate myself, I hate everything I represent. No wonder everyone leaves.
"You keep saying you want to be alone, let's be honest for once, Ronnie, you only say it because you know they are going to leave you, and you don't want to feel as if it's their choice. But it is."
I let out another whimper, trying to cover my mouth in between puffs so I can block the crying, but a muffled sob still comes out.
I get up, still dizzy from the vodka and I deliberately hit the wall as hard as I can.
My hand starts shaking as it starts burning right away and blood comes out, a bit of it lingering down my arm.
My hand still hurts like a bitch, but I slowly feel it go numb while I ignore the pain, not much blood comes out anymore.
I look at the cigarette, and for the first time, a crazy thought comes to my mind.
I've gone completely insane. Maybe it's the alcohol. But what if...
I take another hit from the cigarette and I slowly bring it to my arm.
I look at it for a few minutes, so close to my arm. What would it happen if I just pressed it into my skin?
Before thinking of why I shouldn't do it, I slightly press the lit part onto the skin and quickly lift it away, as I groan in pain feeling the burning sensation.
It makes my skin red, it takes my mind off my horrible thoughts but it's not enough.
I press it again, in another spot, but harder this time, and I wince as I let out another screech.
I look at the bruise and it's red and sticky, it hurts so much more than that hit.
But it also feels good. I can't even remember what I was thinking about before.
Why haven't I thought of this? Only cocaine used to help me ignore my past, now I have this too.
A bitter smile forms on my face, and I take another hit from the cigarette, as deep as I can.
I cough, covering my mouth and I throw away the cigarette, stomping on it to end it.
I can feel my cheeks burning red from all the crying and as I try to wipe away some tears, I remember I have black eyeliner on. I must look horrible right now...
Do I get inside now? I should wash my bloody hand.
The skin on my arm and hand is burning in pain, but the ache makes me feel powerful. I can end my horrible sad thoughts just with this simple action.
I put my arms around my stomach trying to hide the bruised and dried-out blood on my arm, also the red burnt spots from the cigarette. I wince as the wounds make contact with my clothes.
I run to the bathroom, washing off everything. I grab a dirty hoodie and as I'm about to run back to my room, I see Shanice staring at me with a worried look on her face.
Did she see me?
It's an expression I have never seen on her face.
I look around to see if Olivia and Derek came back, but they aren't anywhere to be seen.
I try to ignore the heavy disappointment I feel and just focus on my physical pain.
I burst into my room, locking it and I wince once I notice I'm not alone.
I look at Derek, sitting on the side of my bed, he looks visibly sad and disappointed.
I look down at my feet, too scared to lock eyes with him. I don't even know what to tell him, why is he here?
I thought he hated me, I thought I'd never see him again.
"I think I'm fucking pathetic," he says with a bitter tone in his voice and I slowly look up at him, confused.
"I keep coming back to you, even when it's obvious that you don't care," he spits as we lock eyes with each other. It feels overwhelming, it hurts to look at him.
His words register in my mind despite the physical pain and the vodka.
He stands up, coming closer to me as I try to wrap my hands around my waist, tighter so he can't see my bruised skin.
He smells of alcohol, heavily, his eyes are red and he also smells of weed. The last time I've seen him do weed was when he taught me.
"Tell me I'm crazy, that you don't feel remotely a- anything for me. Tell me that you don't care about me, not even a little bit- not even as a friend, and I'll leave," he says trying to take my hand into his but I still keep it tight around my stomach, and luckily, he doesn't pay much attention to it.
I begin to register every word he said to me. This is what he thinks of me? I don't want to admit it, but there might be something more than attraction.
I take another look at him and he is waiting desperately for me to say something.
Why does he make me feel this way? I hate it.
I look down at my feet. I cannot bring myself to say those words, because I know I don't mean them.
I know deep down I care about him, I care about him because he has always been there for me, when I didn't ask him to, he didn't have to do that but he did it. For me.
I hate how he makes me feel because I am unable to trust or be with anyone. It's a bittersweet feeling because I love when he is near me.
I feel safe.
I shyly look into his deep blue eyes and I see he is patiently waiting for an answer, but I cannot bring myself to say it.
If I say it, he will be gone, truly and I've gotten used to him, to his voice and words, his scent, his protectiveness over me.
But if I tell him I care about him, what will it change? I can't let people in, I am incapable of having friends and he wants to be close with me, he wants to know everything about me and I cannot even imagine opening myself to anyone, ever.
I'd only hurt him, because of how unwilling I am to get better, to open up. I can keep this from happening by keeping him away, he will get over it easier.
I bring myself to say the most hurtful words I could ever say, I am being the most dishonest, disgusting person right now because I don't mean a word of what I am about to say, and my heart furtherly breaks at the only thought of saying it.
"You are indeed pathetic for trying to help me when I want n- nothing to do with y- you. I don't care about you. I never did." I quickly swallow the knots that form in my throat after every word, and I unlock the door, ignoring his face, because I know I would break down, I would kiss and embrace him and never let go.
I am the most cold-hearted, lying bitch right now. I'm worse than James.
Derek walks past me, I don't know if he is looking at me but he just leaves the room, without making any noise, he calmly walks away. I throw myself on my bed as soon as I hear the door close, crying until I can't breathe well anymore.
If I did the right thing for both of us, why does it hurt so bad? Why does it feel so wrong?
——
I cried ngl, I'm sorry readers, I did what I had to. Did you expect it?
Are you beginning to resent Veronica? What do you think of Derek?
Thank you so much for reading and don't forget to vote and comment!