My sexy Boss

[ 17 ]

Travis P.O.V.

I screwed up.

I fucking screwed up.

It hurts so bad.

I look up in the mirror, my hands are resting on the sink in my bathroom. My eyes are red and puffy from crying. My knuckles are bleeding and bruised from hitting and punching the wall over and over again. 

Why can't I just tell her?

Why can't I just tell her I love her?

Why can't I just tell her what I'm so scared of?

Why am I still so afraid of it, even though it happened years ago?

A tear slips down my cheek again. I lift my arms and pull at the ends of my growing hair, I need a haircut, bad.

I slam one fist into the mirror and the glass cracks around my fist. I look at my broken self-reflection. Though it doesn't look disturbed, this is me. I am as broken as the mirror.

Not wanting to get sentimental, I walk out of my bathroom and flop back down on my bed.

I haven't been able to focus on anything really. 

I haven't gotten out of my house for the past 10 days.

I haven't answered my phone for the past 15 days, though I checked each time if it was her.

I haven't answered my front door, unless it was the food I ordered. Since I haven't cooked in over 2 weeks.

Long story short, I'm a mess.

I'm a mess without her.

My phone rings again. I've given up the hope that it is her. 

I check either way. 

'Idiot' calling, the display read.

Parker.

I can't do this anymore. I need to get my mind of her. She clearly isn't coming back and can't bother to call me.

Even though I know my reasoning is wrong, I couldn't care less right now. I need to get my mind of her.

When I lay in the bed at night, I can't sleep. I need to leave my light on, because I see her with me everytime it goes out. But it doesn't matter, every night I see her when I close my eyes. My body and bed betrays me and acts as if she is still there with me.

My mind conjures up images of her in my office, shower, bed, kitchen, living room. On the table, desk, couch, floor, kitchen counter. Of her bend over, beneath me, on me, next to me, against the wall.

Fuck.

I let out a deep breath, I need to get this under control.

No matter how often I tried, I can't get myself off. It seems as if, even though she isn't here anymore, she still holds all the power over me.

I'm just a puppet on her strings.

I hear pounding on the door, but I don't bother looking through the peeping-hole to see who it is. I didn't order food and if it would be her, she would knock soft and delicate. Or even just stand there for 20 minutes, contemplating if she made the right decision. I even checked in the beginning at least 10 times a day, if she was indeed standing there.

"TRAVIS FUCKING GRAYSON, I FUCKING KNOW YOU'RE THERE YOU FUCKING HERMIT, SO DON'T EVEN FUCKING TRY TO DENY IT. IF YOU HAVEN'T FUCKING GUESSED IT, I'M FUCKING PISSED OFF AT YOU, SO OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR, OR I FUCKING SWEAR I'LL KNOCK IT THE FUCK DOWN!!"