Reece's Haven

24: Reece

"I wish I was tangled in the sheets with you..."
– Nautica

~ R E E C E ~

November 1997

BITCH.

The gruesome word is still there, reminding me of the sin I have committed today. I have to remove it no matter what. I have so much to do to redeem myself, starting with this.

"Come on," I say, desperation laced in my tone.

I dip the roller into the bucket of maroon paint again and apply the paint across the door of the locker.

"Just go away."

I can still see the stubborn word, but faintly.

BITCH.

It's mocking me. Sneering at me, just the way it did to her. I can't imagine what she felt when she saw this but the immense guilt I feel right now is eating me alive.

Images of her flash in my mind. The emerald eyes that I had always admired were rimmed with red. The lips that had brushed my cheeks long ago were quivering. The face that had brought sunshine to my life was now stirring a storm within me.

It's all because of me.

It's my fucking fault.

"Fuck!" I yell, throwing the roller into the bucket.

Blotches of paint spill on the floor. My endless thoughts are haunting me, triggering me. I pull on my hair too hard, feeling my eyes sting.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!"

What the hell have I done to her?

I pace back and forth, restless. It's all because of me that she is crying, that she is in pain, that she is humiliated, that she hates me. I face the wall next to her locker, my lips trembling and my vision blurry.

I screwed everything up.

With a clenched jaw, I suddenly punch the wall. I wince at the severe pain in my knuckles on my right hand. I then burst into tears and drop down to the floor, resting my head on my knees.

"I'm stupid. Stupid. Fucking stupid!"

With each word said, I hit the floor with my other, uninjured hand as hard as I can.

She and I promised that we will always be there for each other no matter what. Having not heard from her for seven years, I found it difficult to tell if she actually meant it. I waited. If I had just listened to her, I would have known that she had always meant it, and none of this would have happened. I look at my burning knuckles; layers of skin have peeled off, allowing crimson liquid to ooze out. I deserve worse than this. So, so much worse than this.

Because I hurt the only person who meant the whole world to me.

Staring at my injured knuckles, I am reminded of the scars that she showed me. I thought it was just me who had suffered and that she pretended to act all innocent and clueless. But, she has scars plastered on her back. She got hurt.

Why does she have them? Who did this to her?

Now that I think about it, since she returned, there were a few times where she would look at me with accusation in her eyes, especially during our first encounter in her garden after seven years. At that time, I did feel as if she were blaming me for something I did. But I didn't think too much of it.

Until now.

Why?

Her voice echoes in my head.