One and only warning: This book contains religion, catholic guilt, sex addiction, drug abuse, graphic sexual content and heavy violence. Read at your own discretion.
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"I am a priest, Anna. A child of god. You are a temptation," He whispered out, h...
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To say that I woke up was mostly a lie when I had barely gotten any sleep anyway. I fell asleep in the bathroom last night, god knows how long it had been, but woke up to the aching in my body before I finally went into the empty bed. Standing in front of it, it was dull and the lamp was the only thing lighting the room. With its warm light, it was still impossibly cold in the room.
I kept tossing and turning with anxiety that made me sick to my stomach. I thought about how badly I just wanted Harry to hold me and tell me that everything was okay, but he was asleep on the couch and tormenting me with the empty bed punishment.
So, I didn't really move from the bed when I woke up. I just laid there, staring at the blank screen of my phone. Sometimes I would tap it every few seconds to see how much time had passed, but it just made the time go by slower. In the pit of my heart, I was hoping that Harry would come into the room to change and maybe exchange a couple words of good morning, but it was nearing ten o'clock and I wondered if he snuck in during my dazed sleep or if he just wasn't going to come in to talk to me at all.
Sighing, I rolled onto my back and stared up at the popcorn ceiling. I called Zayn last night and to no surprise he didn't answer. After all, he confessed he was in love with me and I threw him out like a bag of trash to the curb. I didn't deserve Zayn really, or anyone. I started to think that maybe I was a bad person, that I was somewhat self absorbed in a way that shields myself with a facade of putting people first.
It had been so long since I put anyone first. It was an odd feeling, I didn't know if I liked it or not because it felt so unfamiliar. For the most part, I did grow up and put everyone first because I wanted to make people happy. Focusing on myself now, I felt like I was just–I don't know, not making people happy. Knowing I wasn't put on earth to be a people pleaser, but I definitely wasn't fit to put everything into myself.
Is there a possible way of doing both at the same time?
50-50, perhaps?
I digress. I still hated that I called Zayn at my lowest. I only proved his point that I called out to him whenever I needed something from him, even if it's just support.
Looking down at my fingers, the bandages from last night were sticky and gross. My head rolled to the side to stare at the bathroom door, only to groan quietly to myself. Why did it feel like so much work to walk just a few steps? Was this me entering a depression spell or was it out of pure laziness and comfort that I found in my bed?
It was most likely the first, but I liked to think that I was just lazy so I could ignore the sad feeling that rumbled in my stomach.
Nonetheless, I still crawled out of my bed and went into the bathroom. I turned the light on and stood in front of the counter and did a half ass attempt of taking care of myself. Brushed my teeth, though I skipped washing my face and changed the bandages on my fingers. I only put new ones on because I knew that I would pick myself until I bled again, given that if today was anything like yesterday–and it will be, I would end up fucking my cuticles up more.
