Confessions of a Teenage Alcoholic

Chapter 33

*This is a little sad but it will get better i pinkie promise:)* 

*Also yes, i know i just said i wasn't updating but i'm struggling with my other stuff and just thought id distract myself and write you's the next chapter. Make it worth it with your votes and comments? So i don't feel so shit about procrastinating?*

*Love u all, enjoy*

Chapter:

The sight of Jackson's beautiful face greeted me in the morning as I opened my eyes, the curtains hadn't been drawn last night, so he was covered in the light of the morning sun and I could feel a slow cold take over my body.

He was lying on his stomach, his soft lips slightly parted as he breathed peacefully, fast asleep. His arm wrapped over me possessively, palm spread over my bare stomach.

Oh god.

My breath hitched as I realise I had no idea when we fell asleep, when we stopped talking, when we stopped kissing, I have no idea.

Last night.

Jesus Fucking Christ.

This was bad. Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

It shouldn't have felt like that, we were supposed to be done. I shouldn't still feel as if I was drowning in him. We were supposed to just-

This is so bad.

Last night was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

It was unimaginable. I had had sex a lot of times, some unbelievably dark. But with Jackson it was so intense, I had never felt so impossibly close to someone, so intimate.

It felt like fire, I feel burnt, my body, my soul. But at the same time, it was so utterly blissful, peaceful. Calm.

Everything felt as if it fell into place. But that's NOT how it was supposed to feel.

It was supposed to feel like a beautiful ending, a period, a punctuation mark.

I was so utterly in over my head, this isn't what was supposed to happen. We were supposed to wake up ok. But here I am, staring at him, whilst he sleeps and I am so utterly, utterly not ok.

Because this hurt.

Because fuck. Nope. No. Nope.

I'm going to cry.

He can't wake up to me crying, oh my god. My head is fucking spinning.

I could feel the usual panic rise and I almost laugh, because I have never had a panic attack over something that wasn't Layton related. Especially not over Jackson.

But I'm not, it's not a triggered thing. I'm just, devastated. I guess.

Instead of my heart rate increasing as I stare at him, instead of the panic and the stress and the fucking utter adoration I am feeling for this boy, coming out through the usual anxiety, I feel the slow growing coldness.

And I low key knew what was coming was worse.

Here is where I should probably explain more about PTSD. Because it's not all flashbacks and panic attacks. It's not all about being scared, or triggered in relation to your trauma. When I worked out ways of dealing with all that, my brain turned to something new.

Remember when Layton texted Jackson? And my whole body felt numb.

Welcome to the second most common symptom of PTSD that I battle with. Numbness. Emotional detachment when it all gets too much. And turns out, it doesn't actually have to be related to the trauma.