As soon as I feel the release, I push him off of me with all my strength.
Garett tumbles over his own feet and lands on his back. He looks at me with a great sense of confusion, frustration, and hurt. It's a weird way to get to know a person, that's for sure.
"I'm sorry," he says. "Have I done something wrong? I thought you wanted to -"
"Oh, no, it's nothing you did," I say to him plainly.
There's no emotion behind my voice. I express myself like I would if I were trying to convey a complex idea to a child.
I try to pull myself together. I fix my hair and pull my gown back into its correct position. Garett is watching me like he's waiting for an explanation. I caught him off guard, and I don't know what to say to him, the poor guy.
I can't think of an excuse to give him, so I let go of the idea.
"Okay," I say to him. "See you around."
I walk away, but he stops me in my tracks.
"Anastasia, wait!" he says as he blocks my path. I was hoping he wouldn't try to pull any stunts. I would have preferred a clean exit.
"It wasn't just about the sex for me," he tells me. "I meant what I said about noticing you around. I want to get to know you better. I'm sorry that I didn't really show you that side of me tonight, but I'm a nice guy. Can we maybe go inside and talk and see if we can spark a connection?"
I find him ridiculous. I scoff at the things he says to me. I wonder why he thinks I would want that when I'm clearly already trying to get away from him. I don't want to spend another second in his presence.
"Look, I'm really sorry if I gave you the wrong impression," I tell him. "But this is not one of those moments I want to look back on someday and tell my kids about, if you get what I mean."
Even as I say the words, they taste bitter and I know I'm being unkind. It makes little difference in how I'm feeling.
"Thanks," I say to him. "For, uhm, keeping me company." I take off my high heels and make my way through the forest. I just want to be alone. I feel a deep sense of self-loathing. I feel like I contracted the feeling through Garett. Like he passed it to me through his sweat and his fluids.
He whimpers something indiscernible behind me, but I shrug him off. I have my own issues to worry about and I can't be bothered with this mess I've found myself in.
I decide to head straight home instead, where I am free to hate myself and wallow in self-pity without the worry of being seen or heard.
When I arrive at my cottage, I immediately run to the bathroom and fill the bathtub with scorching hot water.
Before I climb in the bathtub, I catch a glimpse of my reflection. I look pathetic. My eyes are red and puffy. My eye shadow is smudged and the mascara is smudged and running down my cheeks.
I've clearly had a rough night. Not to mention what my hair looks like. Most of my hair had come loose. When I was trying to make myself look decent again before I came home, I forgot to remove the twigs and small pieces of bark in my hair from being pinned up against a tree.
I went from having the best night of my entire life, and then it ended in pure disaster. Typical of my life that that would be the way things turned out. I feel pity for myself.
I turn off the lights in the cottage and find that I am comforted by the darkness. It feels warm and familiar.
The bathtub eventually fills up and I can't wait to hop inside. I dunk my entire body under the water. I want to wash him and his scent off me. I stay underneath for a while and hold my breath for as long as I can. A sweet moment of respite. It's like I'm the only person left in the world.
When I come back up, I feel the urge. The urge to feel something more significant. Something more profound.
I find my knife that I kept in the dress's hidden pocket. I press the knife into my arm and slide it across until the skin breaks.
The entire moment is intoxicating. I relish the way the flesh burns as its tears open. The way it stings over and over with every new stripe I draw. I cannot numb the feeling. There's no getting used to it. The metallic smell of fresh blood is enticing. The bright red beauty of it as it drips down my arm. I am addicted to this moment. I love to feel of pain.
As I lay in the bath bleeding, I get a sense of euphoria. I am taken back in time with a memory. Back to Jacob's twelfth birthday. Back to the day that changed everything. I remember what Gisele was like back then, young and fresh faced.
"If you like him, then what's holding you back?" Gisele had once asked me. "Just tell him. You won't know how he feels unless you talk to him."
She was encouraging me to make a move on Jacob. Hearing the words from my beautiful and confident friend was the boost I needed. I decided I would at least try.
Suddenly, Jacob was addressing his guests.
"I'm so excited to share with all of you I know who my mate is," he said. I felt a pang in my chest, like someone had punched me. If I didn't know whose name he was about to call, then it was very unlikely that I would be that mate.
"Gisele, I'm so happy that it's you," Jacob said. He kissed her on the cheek and they both blushed bright ruby red. Gisele was just as surprised as I was. She seemed to feel a bit of guilt because of it, but I didn't want to hear her side of things. I was feeling betrayed.
I guess old habits die hard because I had also run off into the woods that day.
I ran as fast as my legs would carry me until I arrived at the cottage. When I got inside, I went straight to bed. That night I fell asleep with a tear-soaked pillowcase and the love letter I wrote to Jacob crumpled up in my hand.
I fell asleep in the bathtub and woke up shivering. The blood-stained water was chilly. I got out of the water, drained the bath, and went to bed with the feeling of self-loathing.