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*:･ﾟ✧*:༶•┈┈୨ ☆ ୧┈┈•༶ *:✧*:･ﾟ
I need to fucking reunite with nature because what in the actual hell just happened?
After Atlas and I successfully, I think— Kai trapped Atlas in his own room after kicking me and Emma out, I practically fled to my own room. I needed space, time, something to process the chaos of today, or at least try to erase it.
The moment the door clicked shut behind me, I stripped off my clothes, not caring where they landed, and headed straight for the bathroom. I turned the shower on, letting the water heat up until steam filled the small space. Stepping under the spray, I closed my eyes and let the water stream over me, hoping it would wash away everything—every memory, every lingering thought, every damn feeling I wished I didn't have.
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the images out of my head, couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened since the moment I woke up to the point that my head hurt even more. And I wish it was just the fact that I got freaking wasted yesterday that I was thinking about. It wasn't. And I hated every second of it.
It was the way Atlas had taken care of me, the way my heart had betrayed me by skipping a beat at his touch. The way I could still feel his touch when I closed my eyes as if he were some kind of ghost. I wanted to scrub my skin raw, to peel away the layers of today until I was clean, until I could convince myself that none of it mattered.
I hated him. He hated me. I needed to remember that. He's not just some guy that I automatically don't like. He made it impossible to consider even enjoying his company. I swore to myself that I'm never, never going to forgive him. No matter what. And he never even apologized yet. Even more of a reason to just forget about it just because he fucking asked if I'm okay or made me a damn cup of coffee.
But the more I thought about it, the angrier I became—not just at him, but at myself. Because this was probably nothing to him. He'd probably done this a thousand times before. I was just another girl who woke up in his bed one way or another, and he knew exactly how to handle it, how to handle me. Because it was probably nothing new to him.
But all of this was new to me, all of this was confusing and fucking scary. I was on the other end of the rope, freaking out because he touched me a few times, because I could still feel his hands holding me. Because no other guy ever came close to even standing less than a foot away from me.
And that made me even more furious. How he could be the one who managed to get under my skin like that. I slammed my fist against the wall, the sharp sting of pain snapping me back to reality for a moment. I hated myself for feeling this way, for letting him get to me. He didn't deserve a single thought, a single second of my time. He didn't deserve this space in my mind. He didn't deserve anything from me.
And that made me hate him even more.
How could he be the one to get under my skin like this? He told me I wasn't worth it. How he'd hate himself, not because of the guilt, but because it was related to me. That he'd have to feel guilty over someone who isn't supposed to matter that much. And the worse part is that he never even thought about what he said until I pointed it out, he was never going to apologize.
