AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Ash took my phone away to prevent me from seeing the comments that they’re posting about me. I signed in on Ash’s account, and I read what they were saying.
I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t affected by what I read. They were mocking and saying derogatory things about me. Everything mixes with the feeling of shame that took over me, sticking to my skin like a mask that I can’t get rid of. I want to cry, scream at the four winds, curse the moment where I wrote that absurd message, and leave the apartment to go back to my home and feel like I’m safe from them.
But I do nothing instead. I simply stay in bed without uttering a single word or let out a tear. I remain without suffering my humiliation.
How can I process this blow when I was in a happy place? It was unexpected and disastrous. It was an earthquake. It came without warning and left a wave of catastrophe behind, and I don’t have an escape plan or a place where I can ensure my safety as I wait until I can react.
Am I handling this the right way?
I’m hiding and refusing to see the people that care about me. Stanley came a couple of hours ago—or were they minutes? I don’t think that he was capable of getting to his building when everything blew up.
But I still didn’t see him.
I can’t look him in the eye after knowing that he read the embarrassing and obscene stuff I wrote to his roommate. I’m left in the same position that John told me a week ago; it just looks like Stanley was the consolation prize when, in reality, he means everything to me. He’s not a rebound, or someone I decided to flirt with because I couldn’t get his housemate.
I don’t know if he’s still here, or if he left already. Part of me hopes that it’s the latter because I don’t want to meet his gaze and realize that he’s looking at me differently. I don’t want to witness the moment where his eyes stop looking at me the way they did yesterday. I need to remember his orbs observing me like I’m one of the things that keeps him sane. My heart wouldn’t be able to handle a bad reaction from him. However, I do know that he has every right to do so.
However, the other part of me wants him to be here and tell me that he doesn’t believe the things that people wrote about me in the group. I want him to reassure me that he doesn’t care about what I did before I genuinely met him. Before we connected. I like the way that I am with him. There’s less chaos and risky impulses when he’s around. Stanley anchors my chaos, allowing me to be my true self.
I decide that I’m going to stay doingnothing. I’m not going to react to this. I don’t want the emotional conversations that will drag me to realize that this isactuallyhappening. I’m not capable of facing my friends to tell them the truth of what’s happening because they don’t know that Carter posted that because he wants payback. They don’t understand that he’s angry, and he wants to get back at me because I’m an easier target.
This is not for a dumb and stupid message that I wrote under the influence of alcohol. No, this is for the phone that we stole.
When it gets dark, I hear the creaking of my door opening. I lift my head from the pillow, watching Cora sneak in and closing the door behind her. She has her head low as she walks towards the bed, crawling on the mattress to snuggle with me. I rest my head on her chest, and she holds me in her arms.
Her support makes the need to cry grow stronger. My tears threaten to come out, burning my eyes, but I do my best to keep my feelings in line.
“I’m sorry, Bree,” she whispers in a husky and unfamiliar tone. “I’m sorry that he did this to you.”
A tear escapes me, and I wipe it away with the back of my hand, anger pouring out of me because I don’t want John to obtain any of my tears. He isn’t worth the pain. But I still feel it deep in my soul, the asphyxiating sensation that I’m being exposed and judged. I’m giving him the power to do so.
I shift slightly to be able to look at Cora. Her emerald orbs are dull and clouded as if they wanted to scream an apology that it doesn’t belong to her.
“Would you believe me if I told you that I deserve it?” It’s the first thing that I say ever since I saw the post.
She refuses to believe it, shaking her head, denying the question.
“No one deserves to get humiliated for a mistake.”
I purse my lips together, letting the silence take over for a couple of seconds—maybe minutes.
“I’m scared, Cora,” I admit so softly that I don’t know if she can hear me. “If this was my burden, I don’t want to know what’s going to happen to Stan.”
It’s the first time that I’m talking about this with my friends, and I can feel my heart in my throat, choking me. My hands are sweaty, although it’s cold. My stomach is a mess, and I don’t want to feel this way, but it’s a consequence of putting myself out there, allowing myself to get into a vulnerable position. I need to admit my mistake. I don’t want her to judge me or scold me. I know that I did a bad thing and, even if it doesn’t make up for what John did, this is part of my punishment.
Inhaling deeply, I gather the courage to tell the truth to the bluntest friend I have. Once I start talking, the words pour out of my lips in a thread of confessions that come with tears and broken sobs. The sentences shattered with cries. I don’t know how I manage to tell her the whole story, but in the end, I can sense my face swollen, the mouth dry, and my breathing agitated.
Cora stays quiet, making me feel worse than I did before I told her the truth.
“Why did you do that?” It’s the only thing she says.
“I don’t know,” I say with honesty, my voice squeaking with the tears. “I was desperately trying to do something to save my dignity. I should’ve listened to Stanley, Cora. He told me to put on my big girl’s pants and assume the consequences. But I did it anyway. I never told you guys because I was afraid that you—”
“I’m not here to judge you, Bree,” Cora interrupts me in a sweet tone that I’ve never heard from her. “Even if what you did was wrong, it doesn’t give him any excuse to do this to you. He made his choice. He could’ve picked another way to confront you, but he chose to be a coward.”
I wipe the tears from my cheeks, erasing the rests of humidity from them.
“I know. Deep down, I know that he carries the whole responsibility for this, but I also know that none of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t been so fucking impulsive.”
