Chapter Thirty-seven

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Robyn

I ran down the stairs and into an open doorway. I knew I couldn't outrun her so I had to hide.

I found myself in someone's bedroom, but they didn't appear to be home. Judging by the smell, and the underwear strewn across the floor I'd say the occupants were guys.

I peeked out the doorway and nearly jumped out of my skin when Sabby's face was only inches from mine.

"Shit!" I screamed and ran into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind me.

"Open the door!" Sabstienne yelled, hitting her fist off it repeatedly.

I giggled and spun round so my back was against the door, then let loose a shriek. There was a guy in the shower! And he was naked!!

I covered my face and shouted sorry multiple times while I scrabbled with the lock.

"Oh my god," I wailed as I fell out the open door and into Sabastienne's arms.

"What!?"

"Naked guy," I spluttered, my eyes still burning from the horrifying sight.

"Where? In there?" She asked trying to look past me.

"Yes in there!" I snapped.

"Was he cute?" She attempted to go into the room and I hit the back of her head.

"No! Bad Sabastienne!!" I closed the door (violently) and dragged her out the room.

"I thought you liked it when I was bad," she smirked. I made a small noise in disgust and continued to pull her to our bedroom. "Oooh, are we going to have lots of sex and make a little brother or sister for our beautiful baby?"

"No, I'm too scarred," I pouted.

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad, I mean from what I saw he looked pretty hot."

I sighed, "will you please stop doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Making me jealous, I don't like it."

"But it's hot."

"But I don't like it."

"Why not?"

I sighed and shook my head, it wasn't worth discussing, I doubt she'd understand.

"It doesn't matter, I don't mind that much."

"No, Robyn, don't do that."

"I... I feel horrible and my insides twist up. And I feel really... violent." I said the last word with shock, which I definitely felt. I had never felt the urge to hurt anyone before I met Sabastienne, but now anyone who looked at her with the slightest amount of appreciation made me want to rip their eyes out and use them as ping-pong balls.

"I don't mind, I like it."

"I know," I smiled a little but it wasn't real. I don't think she could tell. I'd been hiding what I felt for years and over that time I'd gotten pretty good at it.

"Good," she grinned and tugged my hair. "Come on, let's make that kid."

I let her tug me to her bed and push me down. I wasn't really into it though, I just wanted to curl up and watch tv while moping in self pity.

She kissed me and I sort of kissed her back, not putting a lot of effort in.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm not really in the mood." I said, my mind travelling over all the things which were making me feel like this. It especially lingered on the boyfriend. Ex. She hadn't even said ex. Maybe she still liked him. What if she was only doing this because she felt sorry for me or something, maybe all she wanted was someone to call hers.

My nose began to itch and I knew I was going to start crying soon.

I knew what I was thinking wasn't true... I hoped.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, "I'm such an idiot."

"You're not an idiot," she ran her fingers through my hair.

I felt helpless. My stomach hurt. I wanted her to stop. I never wanted her to stop. I didn't know what to think, or feel. My head was aching. My eyes burned. I was so confused and frustrated. I wanted to hide. I wished I wasn't myself, I didn't like who I was. I was scared.

And the truth came out. I hadn't even admitted it to myself until then.

I was scared.

She thought she wasn't good enough for me, but I knew it was the other way round. I was scared she'd see what a horrible person I really was and leave me. Or that this was all some sick joke. Or that one of her fucking fan base would take her interest.

Why couldn't I be with a girl no one else liked? Why did she have to be so fucking perfect? And why did she get to be so light hearted about everything while I felt permanently gloomy?

I felt sick. And the worst part was I felt guilty as hell for wanting her all to myself. It was as though I were possessed and there was nothing I could do to stop it - believe me, I'd tried.

I buried my face in a pillow, not wanting her to see me like this. There was nothing she could do.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

Sorry for fucking things up.

Sorry for being shitty.

Sorry for being me.

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