Bad Taste (Part I) // Colby Brock

48 - Rebecca

          Falling asleep whilst crying was a lot harder than it was cracked up to be. I couldn't understand how people did it on the daily. I was unsettled until the early hours of morning, and it pained me to imagine that Colby was in the same situation as me. He was awake all the while I was and at the rate I was going, we would be sleeping at the same time, too. But not together.

My second problem was being unable to sleep without him. It was difficult to settle even after the tears stopped and it was even harder when blue eyes popped up in my head as soon as I started to drift. The night was going to be torture and I knew it was my fault. I should have never let him into my home. I should have never given in to his requests. I should have never stopped being a bitch.

One thing became clear when I woke up in the early afternoon: the bitch was never going away. And it was going to be turned up full force. The first thing I did when I woke up was block every single number Tara had sent me for the group. And then I threw my phone down — I almost broke it — stomped over to Colby's backpack, and kicked it. What else was I supposed to do? Pull out a shirt that smelt like him? I wasn't that bitch.

After all that, I showered and changed and stomped my way through breakfast. Then I set up on my couch for a day of just... difficulty.

I tried to focus on the designs on my laptop, but it was like all of my inspiration had completely gone. So I gave up on that and searched my apartment fruitlessly for something to do — I found nothing.

I ended up leaving sometime between afternoon and evening. With no destination in mind, I was driving around LA, sitting through traffic, and essentially going insane. The amount of people who had received a middle finger was actually ridiculous, let alone the amount of curses that had slipped out. I was certain that the only thing that could fix me was punching walls — though I knew even then that it was something else I needed.

I pulled up at the mall just an hour before it was set to close. I didn't care; I would spend that hour searching for something I could beat up. Maybe a plushy, maybe just something that was easily breakable, maybe even a punching bag. I had always wanted one ever since I became an 'aggressive bitch'.

As I was looking through some clothes — I wanted some to replace those still at Colby's, because there was no way I was going back to get them — I saw a short, tight-fitting black dress with thin straps. And I got an idea for the perfect distraction: club. Specifically a girl's night.

I despised the thought of anything to do with Colby, which meant all of his friends, but Tara had been a bitch to him too, and I knew that right now, she must be as seething as I was; Katrina wanted to be my friend — to have someone normal; the others... I wasn't sure. Just three would be fine anyways.

So I bought the dress without hesitating further and took it home, where I hung it up. I made a plan for tomorrow as I stared at it, wondering whether or not this would be a good idea. My frustration levels were high, which meant who knew how quickly I would find someone to take them out on? It was a dangerous game I was playing, if I did that. I was done with Colby, that was for sure, but I wasn't a whore: I wouldn't sleep with just anyone right after a break up.

Although this was my first ever real break up...

My finger brushed over the dress and I tilted my head to the side. I knew exactly what would go well with that.

I started to match up an outfit to the dress, from a small jacket I'd probably ditch before getting into a club, to the thickly-heeled black shoes that showed some of my feet. And then I started to plan makeup in my head, staring at the extra stuff I didn't use on the daily. And then my hair, because I couldn't just leave it in its normal half-up style; I chose to leave it all down for once.

This distraction may only be temporary, but what other choice did I have? I refused to mope around all day because I broke up with the hottest guy I'd ever seen. Had I broken up with him or had he broken up with me? I told him to get out, so I guessed that I was the one to do it and I couldn't bring myself to completely hate that.