Page 6 of The Retaliation You Deliver
Anger surges through my veins keeping my muscles pulled tight. Betrayal tastes bitter on my tongue.
But that’s not it, because despite everything. I understand.
I get why he felt the need to do what he did, and a part of me hates myself for it because I know that I should be hating him.
He’s the one who played me, who hurt me, who used me. All the things I feared he was doing right from the start.
But the broken little girl inside of me recognizes the broken little boy in him and all she wants to do is pull him into her arms and make everything better.
Damn her, naïve little child.
My muscles pull as I climb from the bed and pad toward my bathroom.
With every move, his scent hits my nose and that along with the slight ache between my legs, ensures that I never forget that last night really happened.
I brush my teeth without looking at myself, too scared to discover what kind of devastating state I’m in after he left me behind.
The second I spit the toothpaste out, I turn to the shower, strip off the shirt I slept in last night and step under the burning hot spray.
I usually can’t stand it scalding, or at least I haven’t for a lot of years but today, I need it.
I need the pain, I need the burn, I need to remember that out of all of this, something good has to happen.
Lifting my hand to my chest, I recall Leon throwing the welcome pack from Acorn Lodge down on me.
I knew it was what he wanted. The second I pieced it all together in my head, it was obvious that my uncle was his intended target. I guess I was just the added bonus and collateral damage to his endgame.
He must hate you,a little voice says in my head.
I fall back against the tiled wall, not even registering the cold.
How good of an actor is he to have made me believe he really wanted me? The things he said to me, the way he touched me. How could he do that when I’m sure all he wanted to do was hurt me?
For the ultimate pain.
Make me fall and then pull the rug from beneath me.
I slide down the wall and curl myself into a ball, wrapping my arms around my legs and resting my head on my knees.
I want to chastise myself for being so stupid that I fell for it. But I knew it was coming. I told myself time and time again that it—that he—was too good to be true yet I continued to see him, continued to fall, and allowed him to shatter my rules and my well constructed walls.
I made it so easy for him.
Was he laughing at me the whole time?
He told me that I was different. But really, I’m no different than all of them.
It only took him days to get into my panties. And this weekend, whether it went the way it did or not, we’d have taken that final step together, of that I have no doubt.
I’m no different to all the jersey chasers I hate, falling for the player almost without a second thought.
I have no idea how long I sit there under the stream of water, but eventually my skin is pruney and my tears have once again dried up and I know it’s time to move.
I haven’t fought my entire life to crumble to pieces because of a guy.
He’s not just any guy though, is he?
Climbing to my feet, I go through the motions of washing up but I’m completely moving on autopilot.
