My eyes were watery, and I was waiting for them to get their shit together—AKA get my own shit together—before getting out and going inside. Mom and Dad were probably still sleeping. I couldn’t help but wonder if they each claimed different rooms in the house now that they were divorcing, or if one of them was already in the process of looking for another place to stay.
Shit, shit, shit. No, don’t think about that. Think about something else. That’ll only make you more upset.
It was easy to tell myself to think of something else, a lot harder to actually force my mind away from my problems. I reached for my phone, and through blurry eyes, I texted Ash that I’d made it home. I doubted she’d respond. She hadn’t responded to any of my other texts or calls so far, not after she told me she went home with someone, that she couldn’t even look at me right now.
Not once in my life had I ever felt this awful. I knew I made mistakes in the past, making mistakes was kind of my pastime, but this? This was on a whole different level. This was the very definition of a shitty friend.
I, Kelsey Yates, was a shitty friend and an even worse girl for any guy to be with. Maybe I should just keep my legs closed.
Where the hell would be the fun with that, though? Sex was awesome. It was fun. It was a good stress release when you had nothing else to do. But, apparently, it was only awesome and fun and all that shit when you did it with someone who wasn’t caught in a fucking love pentagon with your best friend. Who knew?
I heaved a sigh, leaning my head back on the headrest. I’d pretty much bawled my eyes out on the drive back, not that I was proud of it, so my head throbbed like a bitch. I really needed some Advil and some sleep—although what I needed above all else was a time machine, so I could stop myself from making such a stupid mistake.
Guilt. Not once in my life had I ever felt guilty for doing the things I did. I just did them. I was the wild child, the friend who went off the rails. I did shit without even blinking, but this…this was on another level. This was so much worse. To say I was wallowing in self-loathing would be the year’s biggest understatement.
It was utterly ridiculous. I didn’t wallow, I never hated myself.
I did now.
It was funny, in a more ironic sort of way, how time could change you. Time was unyielding and unstoppable, and it changed everyone, even me.
Fuck. I felt really, really bad, and I knew this feeling wouldn’t go away anytime soon.
It was as the beginning hints of dawn graced the skies, the black, starry night sky slowly giving way to lighter purples and blues, that I heaved myself out of the car and grabbed my bag. I still wore the same outfit I wore last night, my cheap devil outfit.
Well, if the horns fit…
Not that my outfit had horns. I wasn’t that into it. Halloween could fuck off and never return, and I’d be just fine.
Once I got my key out, I slowly moved to the front door, my head pounding. If I slipped inside and made it to my room without waking anyone, that would be great. Fewer questions to answer—though it was the weekend, so my parents both had off. They’d surely ask me questions once I was able to get up.
Fuck it. Maybe I’d just sleep the entire day away, and then, super late tonight, I’d have Mom drive me back. It was Sunday, so I did have classes tomorrow. Classes my parents would not be happy to know I was missing.
The only good thing about fucking up so badly was it sobered me up completely. The only reason my head pounded right now was from the crying. I hated being so emotional, such a fucking mess. If I could’ve slapped myself and told myself to get over it, I would have.
Things were not so easy, though.
With my bag over my shoulder, I inched inside the house, closing the door behind me and locking it as quietly as humanly possible. It was still early; too early for my parents to be up, no matter what their sleeping arrangements were. My feet drew me to the steps, and I tiptoed up, not making a peep as I found my way to my old room.
My room. Like it’d been ages since I’d been in it. Totally an exaggeration, since it wasn’t that long ago I’d tried to come home, only to leave again when I heard that my parents were divorcing.
If you wanted someone who made good decisions, don’t come to me. I made bad ones all the time, and at this rate, it didn’t look like I was going to stop.
I dropped my bag near my bed, collapsing on top. It took far too much energy for me to get my lazy, tired, weary ass under those covers after kicking off my shoes. If I could blot out the entire world and pretend everything was fine and dandy, that’d be great. Alas, I didn’t have such superpowers. Didn’t have any superpowers, actually. I was lame. Lame and stupid.
I tried to shut my mind off, to sleep away this throbbing headache that threatened to escalate into a full-blown migraine, but my mind refused to ceasefire, even with blankets piled over my head, a world of darkness around me. The sun would fully rise in an hour or so, but under these thick blankets, I wouldn’t know the difference.
Mom and Dad would see the rust bucket parked outside, so they’d know I
