My biggest regret and my worst enemy.
The man who sucked me into his web of silence and desire. Something inside of me melted when I saw the scars on his back and felt the desperation in his touch. One moment my life was turning at lightning speed and the next it screeched to a standstill.
Ever since Logan died, we have been a rollercoaster of lust and hate. He kept drawing me back in with his green eyes and his touch. It drew me in like a light and made me forget the worst parts of life. There’s something tantalizing about him that continues to bring me back. But no more.
Now, every time we cross paths, he sneers at me or completely ignores me. It’s like I don’t exist in Jackson’s world.
I hate him.
I hate him for making me feel something when I was a pile of dust on the ground, and then sucking up every ounce of life left in me.
I groan through my nausea, hating that I still feel sick, even laying here now. I don't ever get sick after drinking, so I don't know why I feel this way... Is it something I ate? I try to think back, but all I ate last night was a PB&J, and I know for a fact, none of it was expired.
Maybe I have a bug? Except I don't feel feverish or sick by any means. I just feel… bleh.
I roll over in an attempt to get up and flinch when my boobs press into the floor, then freeze. My eyes grow wide as I stand there and stare at the wall.
Thinking.
Wondering.
Fuckingprayingthat something like this isn't true.
But I just know. I know it is.
I get up, breathing through the nausea as I walk over to the sink. I turn on the faucet, sticking my head underneath and rinsing out my mouth to rid the acidic taste.
I know what I have to do, and that's get my ass to the store and pick up a pregnancy test. Another wave of nausea rolls over me at the thought of having to do this. I could call Rose and ask her to come with me. I know she would in a second and not even ask questions. Well, wait, she would ask a million questions. But she would still stand by my side the entire time.
No. I'm not going to go through the trouble of asking her to come with me when it might all be in my head. She's probably preparing for the big fight tonight. I haven't been paying much attention to the upcoming fight, instead spending all of my time and energy hating Jackson with every inch of fury inside of me.
I refuse to do that anymore, mostly if what's in my future is a little jellybean. Shit, I don't know if I can do this. I don't even know if Iwantthis. I can barely take care of myself, let alone another human.
I brush off these thoughts. I can't even think about these things when I don't even know if they’re true. I'm going to go to the store, pick up a pregnancy test, laugh at myself for thinking I could be pregnant, and then go to the fight with Rose tonight. If I'm extra lucky, maybe I'll find a hot guy to help me forget my train wreck of a day.
Yes.
With my new plan in place, I walk into my room and throw on a sweatshirt over my tank. It's the middle of the summer, and sticky outside and in. There is no air conditioner in the house, only those window units that blow colder air in from the outside. Not like those ever do anything for this tiny house. Every room is so closed off from the next, it's impossible for any air to circulate through this hot box.
My house is similar to everyone else's on the block. One area with a kitchen and living room combined, then one side is a closed off master bedroom with a bathroom. On the other side of the trailer is my bedroom, which is so small the only way to get from one side of the room to the other is to go over the bed. I've got a lot of clothes, and no closet, so over the years I've grabbed as manyfreechests and dressers from the side of the street as I could find. Nothing matches, but it holds my clothes. I guess that's all that matters.
Where would a baby go?
I look around my room, trying to imagine a crib in here and knowing it would be absolutely impossible to fit one in here.
"What am I going to do?" I whisper to myself, reaching down and feeling my flat stomach.
I don't want a kid, and to be honest, I don't know if I could ever see myself having a kid. And with Jackson being the father?
Holy hell, no.
I slip on my Nike's and pulling my hood low over my face, I leave my house. It's cloudy today, warning of a heavy storm to come. Minnesota weather is always unpredictable. If they say we're getting a bad storm, we get sunny skies all day. If they say we've got a slight chance of thunderstorms, we'll get full blown tornado warnings by noon.
Like I said, unpredictable.
I start my walk, giving Jackson's house a heavy scowl on my way past. I blame him, even though he's not the only one to blame. I'm as much at fault right now as he is, but I'm too much of a stubborn ass to ever admit that out loud.
Walking to the store takes me about ten minutes. When I pass the bar where my mom frequents, I stop and take a look inside the window. It's empty, but when I look up, I see the apartment that sits right above the bar. The lights are on, and I know that's where my mom and stepdad are living. It's sad. The fact that they're able to write me out of their life so quickly. Not step-douche. I don't give a shit about him.