He kissed me hard then and I screamed into his kiss as my eyes welled with tears of pain that I had never before felt.
The rest of the night passed by in a, slight, haze, but I remembered everything. I remembered everything I did to him and everything he did to me. I woke up the next morning in complete pain. Not only did I have a massive hangover, but every movement my body made hurt. I was alone in my bed, save for a note, on the pillow next to me. I grabbed it and read it.
I’m sorry about last night. I should have known better. You’re a pretty girl and I apologize for taking advantage of you. I paid for you to be able to stay here for a week after your stay was supposed to be. If you don’t want to, just take the money. Again, I’m really sorry.
Realization sunk in. My name wasn't even on the card, because I doubt he really even remembered. I cried, and I cried hard. I was 23 and in L.A. by accident.
I awoke to a small set of hands shaking my shoulder. My pillow was wet. I had cried in my sleep. I looked from the tiny hands, to the flock of blonde hair.
“Mommy, you were crying in your sleep again.”
“I’m sorry baby,” I said as I mustered up the courage to sit up in my bed and look at my two year old son, without crying my eyes out. He was a splitting image of his father. “Where’s your sister?” Did I mention he was a twin?
“She’s trying to turn the TV on in the living room, mommy.”