D for Depression [Mature]

Chapter 36: The red flags

My fingertips rub around the material of my underwear creating a tingling sensation to my core. The slight rub of the fabric above my clit always felt too good to me. Almost better than my fingers. Except if it was Jackson's.

Or hers.

The image of her face appears in front of me, making me stop my movements abruptly. Why do I think about her so much lately?

It's been three years. I should have moved on already.

I mean I have.

It's just something about my sexuality that always leads to her. Probably because all the sexual experiences I had before Jackson were bound to her. She was the one who made me explore my body and my senses, find what feels good to me.

I owe her a big part of myself. Mostly, because I didn't know who I was before I met her.

I used to fly towards every direction. Overloading my day with different people, activities and work, things I thought made me happy, only to realise it was just a way to forget how truly miserable I was. And she not only helped me to change that, but also showed me the way to discover my true self. Physically and emotionally. I was such a different person around her.

No surprise I went downhill after she left.

My hand is itching to continue the journey under my underwear, but I don't obey. I'm pretty sure I won't be able to resist the thought of her touching me and even though Jackson said it was okay to think about anything during this time, I don't want to.

It's either him or nothing at all.

Sighing in defeat, I get up ready to start my day. My feet dig into the soft fabric of the carpet, guiding me towards the closet. It's Monday.

Who created Mondays really? I need to press charges.

I spent about five minutes yawning and rubbing my eyes in front of it, before I manage to drag my favorite pair of boyfriend jeans and a simple white cropped t-shirt. Trying to close the doors unsuccessfully, I huff anoyed pushing on my jackets to the back so I can get it over with.

Honestly, I need to look through my stuff and clean it out before the White Witch emerges through my closet.

I don't ususally go shopping, but I'm one of these emotional hoarders that keeps everything because it's just too hard to let go of them. It feels like every piece has a memory, even if I don't wear it anymore.

Which makes my mom even more crazy, because she tries to get me new clothes every now and then but I resist telling her I have enough stuff, even though most of them are from my highschool years and back. Also, our definition of style is really different, so I don't think that I would wear the clothes she picks either way.

Walking towards the bathroom, I open the shower and check myself in the mirror while waiting for the water to warm up. The hickeys on my neck are a much deeper color than yesterday night, but the memory of Jackson's lips there makes me smile in content.

I can't believe I'm going to see him two days in a row. Usually we don't spend enough time together due to his work and well my fucked up brain, but today he promised to come and get me from the uni after I finish my classes.

That's a good enough reason to get me through the day.

My body relaxes under the hot steam and soon I'm out of the shower putting my clothes on. I take a little extra time to cover the bruises on my neck and chest area and comb my hair.

I need a haircut. A few more inches and they will touch my back dimples.

Taking my phone from the nightstand and the bag with my stuff I walk down the stairs to the kitchen.