I heard the familiar click of the ignition, followed by the sputtering start of the car engine, and raced to the window. I saw the tires roll onto the road, their rubber meeting the asphalt with a slight squeal, before speeding away in a slight, controlled swerve.
His taillights disappeared into the inky night, their red glow fading like a ghost, leaving a haunting ache in my chest.
5
CAIDEN
The blurry imagesof last night’s events slowly crawled into my mind as I awoke, like a horror show being played in slow motion.
Groaning, I collapsed onto the rumpled bed; a wave of shame washed over me, the lingering smell of cheap whiskey and regret heavy in the air.
My hand instinctively reached for the empty bottle on the nightstand, a hollow ache mirroring the emptiness inside. The sunrise, mockingly cheerful, painted the room.
As I made my way out of the basement into the kitchen area, scents of freshly cooked bacon sizzled in the air.
“Hey, Caiden. Help yourself to breakfast.”
Shane smiled at me while he motioned to the food. Shane's easygoing demeanor was too inviting, too warm. The bacon, crisp and tempting, did little to soothe the gnawing guilt.
I managed a weak nod, the food suddenly tasting like ash in my mouth. The morning light was a cruel spotlight on my self-inflicted misery.
“Thanks.” With a grumble, I shoved the food into my mouth. “This is pretty good.”
“No problem.”
He began to clear the clutter from the counter, stopping mid-wipe to give me a long, thoughtful look. “By the way, Amelia shot Sabrina a text last night, a quick check-in, asking if you'd arrived home alright.”
I braced myself for his accusation, anticipating a knowing glare, but his eyes held only a curious, concerned gaze instead.
“Yeah. I showed up at her house, I was pretty fucking drunk, and I said some things to her. I’m surprised she even reached out to make sure I made it back.”
I pushed my messy hair back, the strands sticking to my sweaty forehead, and leaned on the table, my hand gripping the cold metal of the fork tighter.
Shane simply nodded, his expression softening. "Well, she's worried about you, Caiden. Maybe you should talk to her?" The suggestion hung in the air, light as a feather yet weighty as a stone.
The bacon, now soft and cold, felt like lead in my stomach. The guilt, far from subsiding, had twisted into a hard, unyielding lump.
Amelia’s concern, a fragile lifeline in the wreckage of my night, felt undeserved, a cruel irony.
“I think I fucked up big time. She’s not going to want to see me.” I glared at the hard floor, the shame burning in my flesh as I avoided his probing stare.
He sighed, a sound that carried an understanding. "Maybe," Shane conceded, his voice quiet, "but maybe she does. You owe her an apology, at the very least. And yourself, Caiden. You owe yourself a chance to make things right."
His words settled on me, and I pondered them.
Did I even want to make things right? I said some wild stuff last night, things that held some truth, but I couldn’t get too close to her. It wasn’t right.
She deserved better than to get entangled with my darkness.
A selfish part of me yearned to keep her all to myself, a possessive ache in my chest.
The memory of Alex's soft caresses on her arm, his warm breath ghosting over her ear as he whispered, seared itself into my mind.
Her laughter, sweet and pure as a summer's day, echoed tauntingly in my ear, like a playful nymph.
Now that I was slowly trying to disconnect from the monster inside of me, my original self was coming to the surface. The one who yearned for Amelia, before hatred swallowed the light.
It was fucked. I could remember the early days, when I would go to school and see her. My heart would flutter, and my palms would become clammy, and I would have the urge to be in her company.
