"When I feel that pretty pussy of yours clenching, I don't want it around my fingers."
⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹
Alison Collins is a young woman who came to San Diego to party. But fate has other plans with her as it lets h...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"I want you to find out where he is. If Gibson thinks he can betray me like this I will put a bullet through his fucking brain. Now... now - fuck! I'm sorry." I groan as I messed up the same line for the third time today because I simply can't get the ending in my head. I slide my hands through my hair in despair.
"Maybe it's time for a little break." Joe suggest, the director of the project I'm currently auditioning for, "5 minutes guys."
I storm out of the room I was in the last half an hour, heading towards the restrooms, bursting the first door I approach open before shutting it with a loud bang. After locking it I walk over to the sink, my hands grasping the edge of the counter as I let my head hang low.
"Fuck." I hiss and push my body back from the sink, pressing my palm against my forhead when I hear a knock on the door, "One second."
Turning on the faucet, I splash some cold water in my face, trying to calm down a bit. But guess what, it doesn't help in the slightest. With a groan I unlock the door and open it again, my eyes finding Megan who is leaning against the wall opposite to the restroom I'm was in.
"What was that?" she asks with an amused chuckle.
"I don't know." I groan and lean down next to her, "I guess I'm just not in my best condition today, that stupid line won't stay in my head."
"I can ask Joe if we can reschedule the audition, I doubt it will get any better in the next," she glances down on her watch, "three minutes."
"Yeah, maybe you're right."
"I'm always right in case you haven't noticed yet. Give me a second, I'm gonna talk to him." she says and pats my shoulder, "And don't be so hard on yourself, it happens to the best."
I watch her walk away before I rest my head against the wall, closing my eyes for a moment.
It has now been four days since I left San Diego. Four days since I've lastly seen Alison, and what should I say - it's killing me. She hasn't answered any of the messages I've sent her nor answered any of my calls, and I've called her a lot. After three days of trying to reach her, I gave up and left her a voicemail, telling her, again, how sorry I am and that I accept that she doesn't want to talk to me right now. I told her that I will stop calling, willing to give her the space she's needing right now but also that I will be here, waiting until she's ready to talk about everything.
What I haven't stopped doing is messaging her. When it's morning in Boston I text her that I wish her a good day, during the day things that remind me of her and in the evening that I wish her a good night, trying to show her that I won't give up on us this easily but in a way where I'm not expecting anything back which, to my despair, was very much the case. I never get a text back. But I understand her, I really really messed up.
The problem with this whole situation is that it's slowly eating me from the inside, making getting out of bed almost impossible, don't even get me started about eating or sleeping, which I'm not getting enough of since I've arrived in Los Angeles. One of the worst parts - I don't have anyone here I can talk to about what happend, my family and friends are all in Boston. I also haven't talked to Scott yet since he left, trying to avoid the 'I told you that would happen' speech.
