Cerian.
The next morning I woke up only to find myself in Denver's office where I had crushed, I don't remember much happening last night after my encounter with the stranger except blurred images of me staggering to Denver's top office away from the club atmosphere with a bottle of tequila tucked under my armpits.
Upon waking up, my entire body fucking hurt ,it's like I had turned into someone's punching bug over night and I also had a new foreign feeling that's not my normal hangover headaches and flipping stomach. The feeling was some heaviness in my chest and a lump in my throat like I wanted to cry my eyes out and fill up the entire building because I felt like I had done something wrong.
That feeling has a name..
Guilt :Responsibility of or wrongdoing .
Guilt: Awareness, feeling of having done wrong; remorse.
My version of guilt was the awful feeling and constant reminder that I committed adultery even after telling myself over and over again that I would never stoop that low despite my rocky marriage. Maybe I should just blame my careless action on Tequila.
My eyes landed on the half empty bottle on the table and without thinking twice,I grabbed it and drunk the bitter liquid. The enemy once again became my friend by drowning a part of the guilt.
Three minutes after the bottle was empty, I got up,supporting myself on the large desk then picked my phone on the table to check the time and call a cab but things immediately spiraled when the stupid IPhone denied my pass code,claiming it as "wrong,"
"Are you serious?" I asked the gadget ,typing in my pass code for the second time.
"Wrong pass code, 1 trial remaining,"
"Fuck it!" I angrily shoved it in my pocket and staggered out of the office, tripping on my shoelace while at it. Today just wasn't my day,was it?
I finally made it out of the club and hailed the first cab I saw , I slurred my address to the old driver and slid into the backseat taking my phone out of my pocket to examine the damn thing.
Once again,I powered it up and realization hit me like a freight train, it was there the entire time and I just never saw it. The lock screen picture! It wasn't mine, my phone had my guitar as my lock screen this one had an African American male smiling at the camera and he looked painfully familiar with the one from last night oh- fucking- shit!
We must have swapped phones.
"Sir,we are here," The mam said.
After paying him,I got out of the car,once again slipping the phone in my back pocket and silently cursing at the raging mid day sun. How on earth will i get the phone back,I don't even know the guy's name.
The guilt ,slithered its way up my back as I approached the door to my house,should I play it off to Yours truly, or turn my water works on while I confess my sins to him? Tell him it will never happen again?
Still indecisive about owning up,I walked into the house and the fresh aroma of pancakes and bacon renting the air. If I wasn't hangover,I would gladly welcome the aroma and let it lead me to the kitchen, instead the smell just got mixed up in the air and my sensitive senses to a point I just wanted to throw up.
Who was making breakfast anyways? Denver relies on takeouts or eating at restaurants,besides he's not a breakfast guy.
Curiously,I made my way to the kitchen and my feet immediately stopped at the door,heart froze ,the guilt simmering in anger at the sight in front of me .
There she was,the British blonde witch,dressed in nothing but his black sex pistol shirt that was too large on her,it was practically swallowing her. In my kitchen, touching my sauce pans probably poisoning what she was cooking.
Her blue green eyes met mine and a sick sweet smile curved her lips, "You're back!" She said excitedly, "Just in time for breakfast,"
"What are you doing here?" I asked coldly,she deflated.
"Making breakfast,"
I let out a dramatic sigh and walked further into the kitchen towards the water dispenser, "I'm not an idiot nor am I blind, what I mean is what are you doing in my kitchen?"
"Denver..let me stay the night and I thought it would be kind to make breakfast.."
"Something smells nice," The man in question said as he walked into the kitchen ,nose held up in the air.
"Wow,you're making me pancakes," He said, wraping an arm around the witch and kissing her temple, for a moment I felt invisible thinking he would ignore me but then ,he turned to me and smiled warmly, " Hey, where'd you go last night,I looked everywhere for you,"
"Then decided to replace me," I spat,my glare never leaving the blonde witch.
"Cut the attitude C,go freshen up and maybe sleep away your hangover," He said,anger lacing his tone. "You're making her uncomfortable,"
"Can I talk to you at the back," I requested already making my way to the back, "Now!"
Denver joined me at the back seconds later looking irritated,arms crossed over his chest,if I were a bug he would squash me. "You reek of alcohol," He pointed out.
"What is she doing in my house,I want her out,"
Denver chuckled, "You're house? the last time I checked,this is also my house and I have every right to bring in whoever I want. Jesus what is wrong with you?"
I laughed like a maniac and jabbed a finger at his chest, "You are my problem Denver,I don't know what I did to you but lately you've been treating me like shit. I kiss your ass every time,fuck I worship the ground you walk on ,all for what? To be treated like nothing,you act like I'm never there,you pick other people over me even after you promised that I am always your number one priority...you're killing me and you fucking now it..." By the time I was done pouring my heart out,I was breathing like a fish out of water,hot tears blinding my vision.
"Are you done?" He asked heartlessly like everything I had said was nothing.
"Fuck you!" I spat fire and venom as I pushed past him intentionally bumping my shoulder on his hoping his scapula would break or dislocate. I just wanted to hurt him.
I rushed upstairs to the room we shared and locked the room then slid to the ground,knees to my chest and just like that I was crying all over again.
He didn't care...no one cared..