𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈 everyone knows who she is. Worldwide model, covered in many vogue magazines, walked catwalks, and runaway. But people don't know what happens behind the curtains. Despite the many scandals that have plagued her reputation...
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The beach was empty, just the waves and me. Three in the morning, the world was still, but inside, I was anything but. The ocean moved in this slow, endless rhythm, calm and peaceful, the complete opposite of the storm in my mind.
I couldn't stop thinking about last night. Every word I said, every moment I saw that flash of pain in her eyes. Winter always tried to hide it, to act like it didn't affect her, but she could never fool me. I saw right through her. Every time.
A wave slid up the sand, icy and biting as it touched my feet. I took a drag from my cigarette, letting the smoke curl out into the night. The cold didn't bother me. It was almost fitting, like it belonged there, just like the chill that had settled deep inside me.
Maybe in another life, things wouldn't be this way. Maybe I wouldn't be this person, wouldn't have to carry this weight. Maybe I wouldn't feel so... cold.
The thought hung in the air, just like the smoke, as I stared out at the water. The moonlight made it look calm, almost inviting, but I knew better. What the hell was I doing with my life?
She was always there. No matter how hard I pushed her away, the more she stuck. Over the years, I'd managed to convince myself that I hated her, but who was I kidding? No one could fool themselves forever. She was a pain in my ass. A mess. So why the hell am I always keeping close enough to mess with her but never far enough to leave?
It's not like she was special. She was a drug addict. Problems followed her everywhere she went. She was a mess, and she was a bitch. So why is she always running through my mind?
I took another long drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs, warming the coldness inside me for just a moment. Just a moment. Then it was gone, and I was left with the same questions, the same goddamn ache.
I walked along the shore, the wind whipping my curls into a mess. The coldness inside me wasn't just that—it was mixed with something darker. Anger. Anger at myself, at her, at the world. It simmered just beneath the surface, feeding the hatred that had settled in my chest.
I took a long, deep drag from the cigarette, feeling the smoke burn its way down, momentarily numbing everything else. But it never lasted. The anger, the bitterness—they were always there, just waiting for the next wave to drag them back up.
My phone pinged, breaking through the sound of the waves. I pulled it out of my pocket and saw a message from Travis, T: why aren't you at the dorm? you good?
I stared at the screen for a moment, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. Then I typed back, L: needed some air. be back soon.
With a final drag, I stubbed out the cigarette in the sand, watching the embers die out. I stood there for a second longer, then turned and walked back to my car, the cold biting into me with every step.
I sped through the empty streets of New York, the city lights blurring into streaks of color as I pushed the car faster. The cold night air rushed in through the cracked window, keeping me grounded, sharp. It wasn't long before I was back at the dormitory building, pulling into the parking lot. I slipped out of the car and made my way inside, moving quietly, not wanting to wake anyone.
