Too Bad For Her Own Good

Chapter 7

So, good news. School was cancelled for today, "giving the newly weds a chance to fully immerse themselves in their new lifestyles."

I got the call this morning and was more than pleased. Having to sit through calculus and biology, while my head is struggling to comprehend the entirety of what happened last night, I don't think it's humanly possible.

I woke up about an hour ago, and Logan was gone. Out of the bed, out of the room, out of the house. His truck was still here though, blocking most of the driveway with its ridiculous size.

I wonder where he could have gone? It's about 10 a.m. now, so he must have left sometime before 9. Maybe he went to a friends house? I never really got if Logan had friends or not, he had a crowd, but he never really participated much in conversation from what I gathered. I definitely didn't see him as a sleepover and gossip kind of guy.

But I couldn't be more relived that Logan was gone. I couldn't face him right now, not without a proper way to explain myself for what happened last night.

Yesterday afternoon I promised myself, I swore I wasn't gonna touch him again. Wasn't going to let him kiss me, because it only led to confusion and untimely to someone's heart breaking.

But I couldn't do it. My will wasn't strong enough, and the temptation he held was much to powerful to withstand.

I'd kissed him.

Willingly.

I wouldn't have stopped him if he kept going. I wouldn't have stopped him at all.

Granted, I did try to stop him at first, I couldn't do it anymore. I don't know what it was, maybe it was the way he looked so vulnerable and it almost felt like, like he needed me. Needed me to kiss him, or something crazy like that. But the emotion in his "please", it was too much to say no to.

But here's the part where I get angry. He yells at me yet again afterwards, saying I needed to tell him to stop.

I did! I definitely did, multiple times but no he didn't listen so now I should have tried harder? Why is it my responsibility to control his hormones?

I'm still laying in bed, covers sprawled around me as I bathe in anger, trying to rationalize what happened.

Than he calls me a whore. How nice? His kindness, it's really refreshing. Because I asked him, told him to stop but he begged me to kiss him, I mean of course, how am I not at fault?

Then goes the breaking of everything, anything.

I groan at myself, covering my face with my hands in an attempt to stop myself from reliving this memory.

He looked so scared and broken, and I did every single thing I said I wasn't going to. I coddled him and helped him. I acted with kindness and forgiveness instead of letting him sit there cracking himself apart with his very hands.

I went down there, and made him stop. I feel like a mother, but it's true. He's never gonna learn to do it by himself if someone's always there. I don't know about in the past, but if I can't stand him, and I feel the undeniable urge to help him, I bet his "friends" or "family" always help him. But at the same time, I've never met someone who seems so alone.

He's hard to say no to, which is something I will sadly need to brush up on. I can't let my interest in him get confused with caring about him. 

And oh god, cleaning him up. It wasn't bad enough that I didn't let him wallow in misplaced anger and self-pity, no I had to clean him up of his mistakes too. Wash away the blood he inflicted himself, from both him and me.