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19: The Fallout

 [a/n]: 5.8K WORDS. this is my longest chapter ever, and to celebrate, i would appreciate loads of comments with genuine reactions and theories as you read (ovb on the app). enjoy! another a/n at the end.

19: Fallout

            I am putting all of my effort into making amends with Caggie, it is the only healthy thing I can concentrate on now which has the smallest possibility of leading to me having a breakdown, which I can feel on the horizon. I am a mess, I conclude, looking in the mirror in a ridiculously short dress which barely covers my ass, a neckline low enough to be considered inappropriate for public. I want to blame my state of dress on everyone else; Charlie for being a major fuck up in the last months of my high school life, for confusing me, for making me doubt myself, Graham for telling me he is responsible for ending my one year relationship, Byron for telling me that Freya is back and all of our work helping him get better is for nothing, Caggie for the abrupt end to our friendship, Devin for fucking dying.

            I want to blame other people for the state I am in now, but the idea of not taking responsibility for my own actions, something I have always done, repulses me just as much as the feel of my tongue running across the front of my teeth. My makeup is smudged, most of it on the pillow I have just moved my head from, and I am a poster advertising the morning after. My main concern right now is finding Caggie in this wretched house, and leaving before anymore can be said about my appearance here last night.

            I struggle to find my phone beneath the pile of clothes scattered at the end of the bed. The sound of a groan has me pausing, and looking up sharply at the head of dark hair at the top of the bed. I can barely recall anything of the night before, other than arriving and having drinks shoved into our hands whenever they happened to be empty. I don’t understand how this is something Devin and Caggie enjoyed doing to themselves every week. My gut is churning, and my hands are shaking as I search for my phone.

            I drop it once I manage to get my hands around it, and I take a deep breath to calm myself down. This feeling of panic is one I am not entirely foreign to, but it makes me pause as my gut clenches. My battery percentage is ridiculously low, but should be enough for me to make a phone call at the least, for a taxi to get me out of here immediately. I know enough about what happened last night to understand why I feel so stiff and shameful. I feel as though I should have hypocrite stamped onto my forehead.

            “Kasia?” There is a groan, and I watch him sit himself up in the bed, the realisation of our transgressions catching up with him. I gulp as his mouth falls open a bit before he smiles, rubbing at his eyes as though that will somehow stop the amount of light entering the room through the window. “Fucking hell,” he curses, “I knew you’d come back.”

            “Shut your mouth,” I hiss, standing up to my full height, phone in one hand and heels in the other. “This doesn’t mean anything.” He is welcome to read into this much more than it is required, but I am not prepared for him to continue with the notion that this is us reconciling, because I have not forgiven him, I don’t want to talk to him and sex does not connote to love.

            “Oh god,” he mutters, “I’m going to get beaten up.” I don’t rush to reassure him from the blatant truth, that yes, if this does get out, he will be hunted down like an animal by my brother and Graham and Sebastian, and the dick between his legs won’t be there for much longer. There is no point lying to him because he does not deserve the novelty of an escape from reality. “Charlie’s going to kill me, isn’t he?”

            “Yes, probably,” I say shortly. “That’s why we should just keep it to ourselves, alright?” He doesn’t reply, and I grow worried at his reluctance to agree to keep this a secret between the two of us, which will save him later down the line; he should be thankful I am offering him this at all. “Logan, promise me,” I am begging at this point, because it won’t just affect him, either. The only thing he’ll have to worry about is the chance of him getting a punch. I will have to face disappointment from so many people, for falling into the trap of Logan C. and taking it to a whole other level, too. I want him to understand that there is so much at stake for the two of us right here, not just him afraid of losing some man pride. But Logan is so wrapped up in the idea of himself he probably won’t even care at all, because this will be his sick and twisted vengeance because I ended things with him and ended up happy.