Enough | ✔️

+ 30 +

I step out of the shower, feeling just as demoralised as I did stepping in. The dense feeling in my chest remains as I drag my eyes up to the mirror.

A sunken girl stares back at me, wrapped in a towel that does nothing to cover her shame. My wet hair is matted around me in tangles, clinging to my cheeks, which are pink from the heat of the water. I run a hand through my hair, shuddering at the memories of him gripping and pulling it as if it didn't hurt me.

The dead weight in my chest still torments me, thrashing about like a caged beast. Emotion ricochets off every ridge on my body, but I conceal it all well behind a plastic smile.

I dry off and block out my thoughts, wishing that erasing mistakes from your life was as easy as making them.

Glancing over at Slater's shirt on the sink, I instantly regret hurrying to the bathroom and forgetting a change of clothes.

The regret only lasts a moment, soon overwhelmed by a carelessness that I've never felt before. I just don't care anymore. Nothing matters. The world can throw whatever it wants at me now.

I step out, wrapped in a thick towel that falls down to mid-thigh. The chill of the air conditioning greets me first, followed by a definitely-present Slater.

"Do you feel any better?"

I glance over at him, too drained of energy to feel embarrassed after the many times he's seen me in vulnerable states over the months I've known him. The prolonged stinging in my abdomen remains, and that alone is enough to distract me from reality. Nothing matters anymore.

"No," I mumble, leaving a trail of water behind me as I walk over to my drawers to rummage for clothes.

Slater sighs and before I can grab an outfit and retreat to the safety of the bathroom, comes to stand beside me. Or rather, tower over me.

A soft grip turns my chin to face him.

For a while, he just looks at me as if he's trying to find something behind my eyes. I just return an emotionless stare, burying my hurt deep down below a thick layer of numbness. Nothing matters anymore.

"Why were you apologising yesterday?" he asks, voice gentle, as if he is afraid that any sudden noises could break me.

I dart my gaze away as soon as the query leaves his mouth. I can't tell him that I was begging for forgiveness because I knew he would blame himself if he ever found out that I did all of that for his job's sake. For his sake.

He'd destroy himself.

"Careful, Slater - it could be assumed that you actually care about me," I find myself saying as cover-up, the bitterness in my tone not going unnoticed by either of us.

I quickly walk back into the bathroom with a change of clothes, the door shutting behind me.

◈ѕlaтer нarтley◈

I watch the door close behind her.

What is going on in that head of hers? That response was clipped and abrupt. I can only wonder what she's hiding behind that thick skin of hers...

I'm almost sure I know what happened last night but until she confirms it, and that means us sitting down and actually having a conversation about it, I can't take action.

What I don't have a clue about it why she was apologising.

Did she think I'd be angry for some reason? How could anyway be angry after what she's just gone through? I can't even begin to imagine her pain.