Traitor (Renji Yomo x Reader) [Continued in a second book!]

Remorse

Renji's POV:

She's right. Everything she said was right. It's my fault. I know..

Sighing, I rushed through the streets, wanting to go home. Lightheaded and weak. With each drag of my cigarette, I started feeling worse. It was only a matter of time until I'd crash on a couch with a bottle of wine in my hand.

This is the eight one today. Shit.

I knew she didn't want me to smoke. Back when we were still somewhat together, she asked me to stop. Multiple times. But I couldn't. What started off as a quick stress relief became a serious addiction. It's not like I didn't want to stop - I did - but it was hard. Very hard. The longest I went without was a day. 24 full hours.

Cursing myself in my head, I took long puffs. Long puffs that I hoped would help me forget about my problems, would bring relief. The smoke filled my lungs, warmed them from within. What used to be a foreign feeling that made me cough was now something normal, nothing special. Did it even bring relief? No, it didn't. Not anymore.

Only a few more feet..

As soon as my car came into sight, I dropped my cigarette to the ground and stomped on it. Part of the embers was still smoldering so I repeated the step but this time also smeared it across the concrete.

What a mess..

Then I headed for my car. Entering it, I stared at the empty passenger seat.

She could've been in here. Pregnant. On the way to the hospital.

Taking a seat, I immediately grabbed onto the steering wheel in front of me after I closed the door.

I could've held her hand. She could've squeezed it to numb her pain. And then we could've taken trips with our baby sitting in the back.

Looking up into the rearview mirror, I saw the empty seats and bit my lip tightly. My grip on the wheel tightened.

It would be sitting there, smiling or even just sleeping. Maybe it would have a sibling. Then we'd have two li-..

As I realized that I began to dream of a life I'd never have, I shook my head rapidly and hit the wheel with my fist in frustration.

"Fuck!" I shouted in despair while my hand collided with the leather.

The horn went off. Flinching from the sudden sound, I started tearing up. I had enough. While I had enough anger in me to tear my car into billions of pieces, I chose not to. I tried to fight my anger. Anger that only existed because of my own actions. It was directed at me. I was frustrated with my life.

To calm down, I put my head on the steering wheel and continued to grab onto it with both of my hands. Then I began taking deep breaths. Whenever I exhaled, I could smell my own breath. It was bad. The taste in my mouth was lousy, disgusting - the smell reflected just that; a disgusting mixture of chemicals. Not only was it stuck to my mouth but also stuck to my clothes and hair.