Misanthrope

22

TW: talk of sexual assault.

Logan's POV

Sometimes we can be too stubborn and hurt to forgive each other, or ourselves, for mistakes that could have been avoided so simply.

"What?" She asks me. She looks into my eyes and lays her heart out in front of me with them.

I can see the pain, the anger, the exhaustion and the confusion swirling together in a mix of green. Her eyes instantly bring a calmness to my soul that I didn't know I needed until I had it.

And I didn't know how much I loved having it until I lost it.

"Me too" I whisper. I don't need to say anything else, she knows exactly what I mean.

The scalding hot water continues pouring down on us like little drops of fire but I can't feel it. My skin is almost numb.

The only pain I feel right now is the pain inside my heart and soul.

My body and mind is riddled with guilt and pain from my past traumas.

I can't help but think that this never would have happened to her if I had just communicated with her how I was feeling.

I should've just talked to her.

"I'm so sorry" I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of the water slapping against the tiled floor and her bare skin.

"Why" she asks me, and I can tell that she is trying her best not to cry. I gave up long ago and I can feel the tears pour down my cheeks freely along with the shower water.

"If I wasn't so fucking stupid, you wouldn't be in this situation" my voice breaks as I speak and I look down at my palms that rest in my lap.

"It's not your fault Logan" she tells me, I can hear the pain in her voice and it only makes me feel worse.

I was supposed to be there to protect her, to keep her safe, to make sure she was as happy as she could be, but I failed.

"Logan, baby" I hear her call and I look up.

I shouldn't be the one crying here. It happened years ago. This only happened to her tonight. I need to be there for her, I need to stay strong.

"Can I sit next to you?" I ask her to make sure I don't make her uncomfortable.

She seems a bit relieved at my question and I push myself away from the glass door I am leaning on and position myself to me seated up against the cold black tiles of the shower wall, making sure I'm not touching her.

I don't want to make her uncomfortable. I don't want to hurt her more than I already have.

"Can you tell me what happened?" I ask her and she seems a bit hesitant to answer, so I go first.

I take in a deep breath and prepare myself for the unwanted memories I am about to reveal.

"When I was twelve, in my old school I was quite popular. Not like jock level popular, but I had a lot of friends and a lot of people knew me" I begin and notice she relaxes a little bit at me telling my story first instead of her.