When walking out of the bathroom after that electrical wire switched on inside me, I fell in love with how it looked. The rumpled sheets, blankets, and pillows all spread out in a random pattern, but yet, they were all meticulously placed by him. Disturbing it seemed so wrong, so vile, but with the anger rising in me I couldn’t help but stomp over.
I hated myself for wanting to bury myself in it.
I hated that Hawke had left.
I hated being left alone once again.
But what I couldn’t stand most of all were these emotions erupting inside me, pouring out of crevices I’d hidden so deep.
Hawke had given me pleasure on this mattress, and immediately I could feel dampness weeping between my thighs. If I wasn’t careful, it would leak down my leg, and then I’d have to go take care of myself in those sheets that we’d desecrated.
Oh. My. God. Why the hell had he left?
“It’s for a good reason.”She whispered.
That stupid voice echoed in my head. I was starting to think I had schizophrenia, and I was blaming the disorder all on Hawke. He’d broken my head, and now my heart was a jumbled mess.
He’d left.
“But for a good reason, don’t give up on him, yet.”
My forgiving heart could only go so far, and the idea of kicking him in the nards again was sounding better and better. But what if I could get him back? That would be even better.
I picked up the vase of flowers, my anger rising higher by the minute. They were beautiful, romantic, lovely. They were the symbol of love and affection. I should be angry, not fawning over these flowers. So, with all my strength, I flung them to the far side of the room.