“What?” Here I am so fucking drunk, missing my grandma, and this is what she wants to talk about.
“Do you want to get married?”
“I don’t know.” I mumble.
“I want to get married.” She sounds like she’s sulking.
“Cool.”
“Why do you only kiss me when we’re alone?” She asks and I groan into my hands.
“Charlotte!” I yell into the car. “I can’t do this right now!”
My fucking grandma just died! What the fuck is wrong with her?
I roll down my window to let the cool air hit my face, I’m angry and I know this night is about to go downhill.
“I know.” I hear her sniff and lock my jaw with irritation. “I just need to know what we are.”
“We’re buddies that like to make out.” I snap and then cringe when I hear her intake of breath. That was harsh.
“That’s it?”
“I can’t think about this right now.” I shake my head. “I really can’t.”
I asked her to get me out of the house to take my mind off of shit but instead I’m having to hear more drama.
“You’re not worth it!” She screams and pounds her hand into the steering wheel. “You never really cared!”
I wake up in a cold sweat, the droplets running down my spine, and dripping off my jaw. It’s been a while since I’ve dreamt of Charlotte and it always feels so fucking real, like I’m right back there in that car with her.
I wish life were like that, that you could choose when and where to go back and fix all your fuck ups, Charlotte was my life’s catalyst of fuck ups. I wish with everything in me that I could go back and reverse what happened that night.
My phone pings through my dark room and I reach for it off my nightstand. As soon as I see the name on the screen, my heart stops, and then gallops against my ribcage. Swiping open the phone opens the message instantly and I freeze when I see a video. My hand shakes as I press play.
“Turn around.” His voice is loud in my silent bedroom.
It’s me in the video and I am completely naked, my hair hanging to mid back in messy waves. I do as he says and turn, my upper thighs to my chest visible on the screen.
“Touch yourself.”
I remember exactly how I felt at this point, drunk and slightly confused as to why I was doing as the old fucker said, and I wish I could even go back to this point and punch him in the face, changing the course of our relationship.
But that’s not how life works, instead we are bound by our past decisions, and forced to live a future of consequences.
I watch as my hand shakily finds my mound and I slip them through my folds, dry as they were. I was too afraid to feel anything and being a virgin, I was naive to his intentions.
The video cuts out and I’m left looking at the screen in terror. What is he planning for me? Why the fuck is he sending me this?
I drop my phone beside me in the bed and try my hardest not to crumble, not to give into the desire to end it all and try to think of Flower. She asked me not to leave again and I promised her I wouldn’t.
I have yet to message him back and ask what’s going on. I’m playing the avoidance game but seeing how he’s escalating, I’m not sure how much longer I can let it continue. I wish I could turn to someone with this, but I can’t. I can’t let anyone know what happened in New York and in the end, I always felt like I deserved it.
It’s just after midnight on Sunday and I can’t lay here any longer. My heart is racing with anxiety and if I don’t get the fix I need soon, I know things will only get worse.
I pull up my phone and scroll to the name I’m hoping will want to see me.
Me: Meet me at the strip.