HE IS HELL

Chapter seventeen

Chapter seventeen

The next couple of months became such a haze as I looked at the man who lay beside me – my body dysmorphia became more apparent, even looking at my hand felt unfamiliar. Most of the time I couldn't remember who I was nor what I was doing; the missed calls and messages on my mobile from both college and Tristan forced myself to recoil from the screen, needing to ignore reality.

I heard the grunt before the hand came sliding across my nude waist – I was naked. I wanted to throw this person's hand off, a one-night stand now becoming a regular thing yet even with the warnings of it being nothing more than a shag I find this man proclaiming his love for me. It's been less than a month of fucking and he already wants to be an official couple. Part of me despised his quickly attaching emotions yet I hated myself for continuing and boosting his belief.

His name is Jamie – an old high school not-a-friend-just-a-smoke-buddy person. He was a great man, he just wasn't my man to put it simply. The fact that he drives a motorbike should be sexy enough for me to want to stay with him – but there was no want, just a need for release and I felt disgusted each time, knowing I didn't care for the person underneath me.

"Round two already?" Jamie asked with a tired laugh, he wasn't meant to stay the night – regardless, he stayed anyway. I looked at him for a moment, he wasn't bad looking nor was he annoying to have a conversation with. Jamie was your typical stoner with light brown emo-styled hair with a bushy beard – average build with an average height. Simple guy, simple mind.

"You wish. No, I need to get ready for college." I replied, grabbing a pair of pants from the new laundry pile – it had been on the floor for a few days – I should probably wash them again. "You're actually going in?" Was it that shocking? I thought, a little surprised at Jamies' expression. "Yeah, I'm going in. I have some work to pick up and no doubt a ton to make up for." Placing on my pants, I rooted around on the floor attempting to find my jeans from last night, a high-waisted pair that Matthew wanted me to buy – telling me how 'It was to make you look better and get rid of the hip dips.' I internally rolled my eyes at the memory, deciding my gray jogging pants would do with a black turtle-neck and baggy gray over-shirt; next was the eyeliner and mauve lipstick. Jamie sat and watched as I got ready, smoking and rolling me a cigarette as I joined him on the bed.

"When are you leaving?" He asked, moving himself up the bed to a sitting position. "In a few minutes. I'll get food when I get there." I replied, knowing he would ask about breakfast. It was silent as we smoked, the morning barley showing as I flicked through my socials.

"I'll leave in a minute then. Do you need a ride to college?" Shaking my head Jamie stood from the bed, grabbing his clothes and helmet. "OK, I'll see you later then?" Nodding once again he left the bedroom, traveling out of the front door to his bike. Thank fuck he's gone. That was awkward. Jamie had a habit of pushing his feelings on to a person – even when they didn't reciprocate those feelings; it left such an awkward boner, you need release but they want smooches and cuddles. I gagged at the thought.

Taking my bag I left my own room, making sure this time to leave the window open. Cigarette smoke and sex was not my best fragrance. Heading to the bathroom I freshened up – ignoring my unfamiliar reflection as I tied my hair up in a ponytail. It was a trek getting to college and back, although my reason to go in was bogus it was just easier than telling Jamie to sling his hook. Thankfully it being a Friday, most of the students would be rushing to finish classes to get ready for freshers week. All a bunch of toss to just get drunk and party in other words.

The bus went pretty quick if you got on just after eight am, the school kids no longer creating a ruckus with the elderly. Spiteful brats with no manners. Hypocrite, you're the same, just older. Reverse psychology was a habit with my internal thoughts.

November down South was pretty cold as I huddled in my jumper – my clothes slowly becoming more baggy with my lack of appetite; it was a good thing really, I was losing weight without the intention of doing so. Regardless of the previous relationship issue, at least my figure would look somewhat slim.

Stepping inside college was terrible – the only good part was the millisecond of warmth from the AC. It was like a scene from a documentary, students rushed around, almost toppling one another; it was like a pack of animals, each one with a designated prey and would stop at nothing to get it between their teeth. I used both hands to tap against each earpiece of my headphones, one of the many anxiety tics I accustomed over the years to calm my nerves. It didn't work, but pressing my fingernails into the palms of my hands eased some tension as I walked through the cafeteria to get to my class, grateful at the lack of students inside.

The day dragged on while I painted over Tristans' doodles on my canvas, although they worked well together I wanted them to be hidden for an abstract effect. I did miss him, however, being apart from people was for the best. Less disappointment that way. Less suffering. There wasn't much point in me finishing this canvas, our scores were already given out last week and I scored well enough to pass this year, finishing it was for my own satisfaction.

I wondered briefly how Tristan was doing as I opened his messages – only five, that was a big deal for Tristan. All of them were the same, asking about my well-being and hoping for a confirmation message. Deciding to reply, I typed back as much I could bring myself to say.

To: Tristan

I'm fine. Sorry. Speak soon. x

I know it was not much for a normal person yet with Tristan that would be enough and sure enough he replied almost instantly.

From: Tristan

Alright. Call me when you need to. x

He was definitely a sweet guy, one I left when he needed me yet still worried enough to message and ask how I am. I was about to put my mobile on the table when I felt another buzz, expecting Tristan again as I opened it only to find it was the devil himself.

From: Matthew

I'm coming to the island. I want to talk later.