𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕜𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ➀

27 FRACTURE

I stretch my aching limbs out and as I do I feel a warm body next to mine. A smile creeps up my face as I roll over to see her beautiful brown hair splayed out on the pillow next to me. I rub my face, letting out a groan as my head begins to pound. Jesus fucking Christ. It feels like someone took a chainsaw to my skull and poured battery acid inside. Hangovers; the inevitable revenge of a night spent overindulging.

I went way too fucking hard last night. Truthfully, the last several nights have been spent in a hazy land of forgetfulness. It's been nice not feeling anything, experiencing any of life's bullshit and that includes my argument with Monica. But looking at the pillow next to mine and seeing her hair fanned out upon it is a reminder of what I miss when I get like that.

Since I've been with Monica I haven't even let myself get so fucked up. I haven't had any reason too. Her pussy juice was a powerful enough high for me. Now, I'm almost regretting that fact since I feel the raging hangover begin to settle over me, making my head throb yet again. 

I don't remember anything after I took a couple hits of whatever shit Trevor gave me last night. I'm not even sure how I ended back up here, at my apartment. I hadn't been here in days or seen Monica for that fact, let alone had her in my bed.

Monica stretches out next to me letting out a very similar groan to the one I had just let out. "I take it you're feeling much like I am right now." I say with a chuckle.

She rolls over, rubbing her face the entire time before looking at me with a dopey grin. "Like shit?" She says, batting her long eye lashes over her bright hazel eyes.

No. No. No. No. No. No.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I fucking hate myself.

I seriously fucking hate myself and that's due to the fact that the woman sleeping in my bed is not Monica. I have no idea who the fuck she is, not even a single inkling as to what her name is but I don't fucking care.

I practically catapult myself out of the bed feeling absolutely fucking disgusted with myself. Once I do I look down and am filled with relief because I still have all of my clothes on. Jesus fucking Christ, please tell me I did not fuck this woman. Please, please, oh fucking please let me not have fucked her.

Monica will hate me for the rest of my life if I did...

And this this is the moment I manage to fuck up everything. I knew it would happen and here it is. My fucking downfall caused by me, myself, and I. I'm such a fucking disaster.

Broken. Shattered. Tiny little fragments...

"Wow, what the hell has gotten into you?" The stranger says as she slowly gets out of my bed. "Did something bite you in the ass or what?"

Yeah, you. You, the woman I don't even fucking know, there in my fucking bed...       

"We didn't fool around or fuck, did we?" It's the only question I have that I care about. I am praying the answer is no. Please let me not have fucked up my life completely. The demons are scratching fiercely at the back of my brain right now. They're ready to jump out and eat me alive.

"Uh," she's thinking about it. That answers my question automatically. If I would've had sex with her, I don't care how fucked-up we were, she would've remembered. "I don't think so. I just remember getting a cab together and coming back here. I think we were going to fuck but I'm pretty sure we didn't."

"No, we didn't." I voice it out loud more for my own benefit than for hers.

She stretches out her tall, curvaceous body. She's only wearing bright red bits of lace as underwear. I will admit, whoever this woman is, she's ridiculously attractive but she's nowhere near as attractive as Monica is to me.