Loving Lucifer [COMPLETE]

Chapter 16

I couldn't eat, sleep or breathe. The next three and a half weeks were a horrible nightmare - a tempest of emotions I had not been trained to cope with. I received a text from him two days after the party.

Want to hang out?

It temporarily jolted me out of my trance and threw me into a fit of anger. I hadn't even opened it - just read it from the notification screen, after which I grabbed my phone and threw it across the room, shattering the screen in the process. Still, it beeped alight again, reminding me of his message, waiting to be read and replied to. I stared at the ominous harbinger and glared at it, as if it were to blame. Getting up from my bed, I stomped over to my shattered phone, picked it up and typed the only suitable reply I could think of.

Screw you. We're done.

He never replied.

"What's going on with you?" Sam asked. It had been a week and I had missed every single shift and every single class, calling in sick. Lying to my mum and telling her I was fine had been the hardest part, and I hadn't even attempted speaking to my father, knowing I would burst into sobs if I should hear his voice. Now I was back at work, trying to get into my routine - trying to cope; to live.

"Nothing." I shook my head at her.

"You've been out of work all week, Matt's been dodging questions...what's going on? You can tell me..."

"We can hang out after work, okay?"

She nodded sceptically, but I would keep my word. After all, Sam was my best friend too - if Matt knew, why shouldn't she? I spent the entire shift convincing myself that I was doing the right thing by telling her. And when I eventually did that night, she paid for my pancakes and milkshake but she didn't try to hug me, and I wondered whether she knew what it was like to be touched when you didn't necessarily want to. We said goodbye and parted ways, but walking home had never been more frightening, and speaking to Sam hadn't made me feel better...it had made me feel worse. Right there and then I decided that nobody else would ever find out the truth. So, I called Sam and asked her to keep it between us, and she assured me that it had always been her intention.

Three and a half weeks later, on the long, hard road to what I thought might be the beginning of a recovery, my world crumbled before my very eyes. Heaving into the toilet in the bathroom I shared with Matt, my heart clenched within my chest. I couldn't put it off any longer, and this was a sign. An hour and fifteen minutes later, I was staring at three positives and wondering what my future was going to look like. I sat on the closed toilet for what seemed to be hours, but must only have been a matter of minutes. It shouldn't have come to me as a surprise – I had missed my period, and I never missed my period. But still, I was in shock.

Before that moment, I had always linked the plus sign to positivity; to good things. But what would this mean for me? Could this be a good thing? Because it didn't seem like it. At the same time, I knew that I couldn't hide out in the bathroom forever. Matt would come home at some point in time and I'd have to explain myself anyway. So I got myself into the shower and used up all the hot water. I smelled fresh when I stepped out, but I didn't feel much better.

Matt came home to take-away pizza that evening. He smiled, realising I had ordered food, which meant I was willing to actually eat dinner without him forcing me to. We sat on the couch, watched TV and ate, and I gave him an hour of peace before dropping the bomb on him.

"Matt, I'm going to tell you something but you can't tell anybody else...not yet."

"What's going on?" he asked, turning his head to look at me.