Crazy In Love | Buggy

f o u r t e e n

The very second that I got into Buggy's bedroom, I slammed the door shut. It took all of my strength to not just sink straight down onto the floor in a crying mess. I made it to the bed, crawling onto it, burying my face into the pillow. I sobbed like a small child. Heavy, breathless sobs.

This wasn't the first time that I had done this. This scene was actually quite natural for me. I often found myself alone crying in Buggy's room.

It was the only place on the ship where I had even a shred of privacy. I felt oddly safe here. It had begun to feel like my bedroom, as much as it felt like his. Moreover, Buggy was also never in his own bedroom. He was so busy that he seemed to have no free time to just sit in his room. This meant, during the day, the room felt entirely mine.

My emotions had been uncontrollable as of late. Crying, anger, self-pity, self blaming, all circled around my mind, making me dizzy. The worst thing was that nothing I did ever seemed to ease these emotions.

I could cry all day and all night, and I wouldn't even feel a little bit better. It was like a spiral, where I only fell down further the more that I cried.

This time, however, felt different than the last. Usually when I cried, it was because I missed my family, my town, or because I was so full of regrets that it bubbled out as tears. Or from fear, fear of this awful situation I was in.

This time, the added layer of such a vile accusation, just seemed to push me over the edge. It bothered me more than it should have that I was being accused of sleeping with Buggy.

Undeniably, I did feel a slight level of attraction towards Buggy. That much, I couldn't deny. However, never in a million years, would I ever act upon such feelings.

The guilt that I would feel for sleeping with such a man would be unbearable. If I ever got to go back to my town, and they somehow found out I had, I would never be forgiven in my towns eyes. They would also see me as a betrayer.

The fact that everybody had already assumed that we had been sleeping together was overwhelmingly frustrating.

Now, it felt like it didn't matter whether or not I slept with him. If we got back to my town, they would hear the rumours, and believe them. I would be out-casted, despite never having done what I was accused of.

Sure, my immediate family would believe me if I promised it wasn't true, but a part of them would always wonder if I had been secretly sleeping with this clown.

For my town, however, I wasn't sure whether they'd believe me or these lies. People loved rumours, especially saucy rumours such as this, so it would both spread like wildfire, and stain me permanently.

I would forever be known as the woman who fucked the man who held our town hostage for months.

That thought just caused me to sob even harder, clutching the pillow tightly into my chest. By now, the thing was practically completely soaked through.

I only stopped crying when I heard a familiar voice. It was the one voice that I wanted to hear the least in the entire world.

"You're crying so loud that I heard you from outside of the door," He told me, clearly trying to say it in a joking way. When it got no laughs, nor any sort of reaction at all from me, he added, "You might end up flooding our boat if you don't calm down."

I just stared at him in silence. A part of me hated him right now, blaming him for these rumours. Well, not just for these rumours. For everything he had done to me, which was a lot by now.

But another part of me, in fact a bigger part of me, appreciated him in that moment. Despite his cruelty, he was always trying to cheer me up when I was sad.