Wilder has an extra ticket to a party and invites his best friend Tristen to go with him. Tristen isn't quite thrilled but decides not to turn down his friend's offer.
'It's just a party. It's gonna be fun.' That's what Tristen thinks. Wilder, on th...
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I had never been this lonely in my entire life. Wilder had always been there for me through everything. He was there for me when my mom died. He was there for me when I had a huge fight with Dad about my college major; Dad wanted me to attend business school. He was there for me when Stacie dumped me just a few weeks following our one-year anniversary.
However, this time was different.
Wilder was the source of my suffering.
I cried alone in my room until I fell asleep, too ashamed to call anyone for emotional support, not my brother, not my sister, no one. It was too embarrassing to talk about, yet too unhealthy to suppress like that.
I wished I had Stacie with me. I wished I had amnesia. Even though I couldn't remember some of the events that happened last night, but the ones I did remember were twisting my stomach in knots.
I forced myself to think positive thoughts; at least I wasn't able to remember when it actually happened, like the very moment it happened. I couldn't remember Wilder's face when he fucked me, but the horrible feeling of knowing that it happened was killing me.
I remembered what Wilder said about the phases of Purple Juice. I reached phase five, only one phase away from death. I guess I should be grateful.
I felt a little relieved that wilder didn't let me die. I tried to focus on these positive things to ease me through my mental breakdown. I was glad that he helped me, I just didn't like the way he did it.
My phone rang, waking me up from a restless sleep. I removed my face from the pillow with a whiny protest. The phone was buzzing and flashing upside down on the sheets. I grabbed it and turned it to see the caller; it was Wilder.
I frowned and hung up on him.
What part of leaving me alone did he not get?
I looked at the time on my phone; it was '4:23 PM.' I slept for hours, even though it didn't feel like it. I jolted up, wincing as the pain came back to literally bite me in the ass. Then, another phone call came through.
It was Wilder again.
I grunted and pressed 'Decline.' This time, I went to my contact list to block him.
The coziness and silence of the hotel room were the exact opposite of our colorful and loud apartment. It gave me some serenity I had been craving for a while, yet it also heightened my loneliness. I was torn between wanting to forgive Wilder and go back to our place, and between staying here until my anger and pain subsided enough to think clearly.
My stomach growled. I realized I hadn't eaten anything since last night. So, I picked up the room phone and dialed room service. I took the menu from the table and scanned it before they answered.
