The Pain You Bring

25 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

Carter

What the hell have I done?

Three days. It's been three fucking days since I've heard her voice or even seen her beautiful face.

It's been three days since I've last seen her and I am dying.

I took every chance I had to see her and now I've screwed everything up.

Wrong timing and the wrong place. I haven't had the chance to explain because she keeps declining all of my calls and hasn't read a single one of my texts.

She's mad and upset and hurt and I don't blame her. Audrey in my apartment looked horrible without context.

I feel like a total asshole. The look on her face when Audrey opened my door felt like someone was beating the shit out of me.

She finally became vulnerable like I wanted for so long with me and I literally shattered what we were slowly building in front of her face.

I hate seeing Mandy hurt.

Her smile, her lips, her dark chocolate eyes, her sexy attitude. She drives me absolutely insane with how stubborn and resistant she is.

And now three says have passed and I haven't heard anything from her. Not even a "fuck you" voicemail. I'd do anything to even hear her say that.

I'd sit there for hours of her screaming at me if it meant I could just look at her. Or be near her.

The hot water cascades down my hair and my back, scorching my body. I've been showering for at least thirty minutes now, just standing here.

Before New York, I was a lonely, stupid asshole. 

I had my friends. I had the money and the plans of a career going for me but deep down I knew it wasn't enough.

I still remember how my mother and father were with one another. The flowers he'd buy her on Valentine's day, the small things he'd say and do for her that would make her happy. And when she died, it was as if my father broke apart.

I just missed my mother and over time my dad grew cold and hated looking at me because he knew I was too much like her. It's sad to know that I realized that so young.

Mandy reminded me of what I remembered of my mom. Her dark hair and her candy like perfume. The familiarity felt so foreign.

When Charlotte came along, it was my last straw. I hated her. I hated what she did to me, what she tried to do to me. I hate her beyond comprehension.

When I moved in with my grandparents, my grandmother instilled valuable lessons in me. She taught me how to be a gentleman, taught me the importance of love and a woman who changes your life and how to never let her let go.

And if she were here, I know she'd lecture me. Because I did the exact opposite of what she told
me. I let the one woman who I cared about the most and the one woman who started become a little happier and brighter around me walk right out.

I turn off the shower and grab a towel from the rack beside it. I wrap it around the bottom half of my body, my chest and torso bare dripping with water, as I take another look at my face in the mirror.