Not Even His Assistant 2

Chapter Thirteen

Author's Note: Hey! Friendly reminder that NEHA 1 wasn't rated mature and NEHA 2 is :) 

Chapter 13 - He's Back? (Greyson POV)

 I shut the door on Connor and sank to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. The kind of ugly crying that leaves you heaving and having snot running down your face. I couldn't understand why this was the final straw. Why he, of all people, was the one to have to make me cry.

I hated him with all of my being. All he cared about was himself and his company, and didn't care if he hurt anyone else. I never should've visited him that other day. He would've ignored me forever and I wouldn't have to feel like absolute crap.

How could I have ever even given him a chance? He always made me angry or upset. I needed him to stay out of my life and my thoughts, for good!

♀

I woke up on the floor by the front door. I got up groggily and made my way to the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror, seeing a mess of a girl in front of me. My eyes were still puffy and my face was blotchy. My lips looked swollen and I had tear stains running down my face. My hair was a knotted mess, but I'd known that since waking up the first time that day.

Why was I crying? What did Connor say that set me off?

I couldn't tell, but I was feeling empty. Not happier, not more relieved, just empty.

I stripped out of my clothes and looked at my naked figure in the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. I had even brown skin with a few scars on my knees from when I was little and fell down a lot. Scanning upwards, I saw the full garden I'd apparently been growing. When was the last time I shaved?

Up further I saw the red outline of my pineapple tattoo that sat close to my hip. It was incredibly faded, almost blending in with my skin.

"He touched that," I said to my reflection, remembering when Connor was in my house, making out with me.

I looked at my breasts and grabbed them, remembering when he had done the same. They were fairly small, but perky. Just enough to barely fill my own hands.

"Stop," I dropped my hands and made eye contact with my reflection. This wasn't okay.

I stepped into the shower and turned the heat all the way up.

I stood in the water as it very slowly warmed up. The disadvantage of living in a complex. Finally, when it got so hot that it was scalding, I turned the knob all the way to the cold side and stood as a jolt of ice cold water hit me instantly. I let it pour over my head and my entire body.

Then I made the water scalding hot again and when I felt the pain, turned the faucet cold once more. Feeling the physical sensation was nice. It made up for the lacking feeling inside me.

Out of the shower, I wrapped my hair in a towel and did the same for my body.

"I don't give a fuck!" I yelled at the nothingness. I went to the kitchen and grabbed my medication from the top of the fridge. I twisted the cap open, speedily walking back to the bathroom.

I dumped it all out into the toilet, before I could think twice about my actions. Those pills cost a lot. A lot from the insurance and a lot out of my pocket. I flushed the toilet, watching the white capsules spin and spin, until finally, they disappeared. I tossed the container into the garbage and left.

I went back to my room and threw the towels onto the floor. I went over to my bed, where my dad's letters were laying sprawled out. Some were slightly crinkled, no doubt from having slept on them the previous night. I shuffled them together and threw them back into their box on the floor. I went over to my desk and found the letter I received recently that I hadn't told anyone about.