Contains sensitive topics

Numb. Numbness over ruled me. I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.

His hands against my warm skin didn't give me goose bumps that Nick's did. His lips pressed to my skin didn't give me the tingles that Nick's did.

His lips were rough, hard, and sour. Nick's lips were smooth, soft, and sweet.

Lust and love, two very different things. I felt lust towards Robert, in fact I don't even think it was that. It was nothing. It was sex. Just sex. We were drunk, hurting and we didn't know what we were doing. Well, I did know what I was doing but in the moment it didn't matter, nothing else mattered. But after everything mattered, I felt dirty and used and vile. He made me feel everything that Nick never made me feel. He was a distraction from Johnny, from Rob and even from Nick. I felt nothing towards him, I barley even knew him but it happened. It happened and I'd never regretted anything more.

Love. Love is the thing I felt for Nick. Everything I'd ever wanted, all the happiness I'd ever wanted I had in Nick; he meant the world. With Nick it was never just sex, it was emotional, passionate, warming and romantic. He made me feel special, safe and wanted. I should've used Nick as my distraction but I didn't. I went against him and now I couldn't fix it.

When I got home that afternoon it didn't matter how hot the water on my skin was or how hard it pelted from the shower to my skin. The harshness of the sponge made my skin red but I didn't care; I didn't care because it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Actually, one thing mattered. The only thing I could think about as my skin become redder and beads of red rolled down my arm was that I had to get rid. I had to get rid of him; his scent, his touch, his breath on my neck, his hold on my waist. Every bit of him had to be washed away. But no matter how hard I scrubbed, no matter how hard the water hit me and no matter how hot the water was he wouldn't go. I couldn't get rid of how he'd made me feel.

The regret was the worst part. Waking up every day and immediately thinking about it. Thinking about how wrong it was, how it made me feel. Then I'd look over at Nick and he'd be sleeping peacefully, so naive to what I'd done. So naïve to my dishonesty.

I was going to tell Nick straight away, I should've told him straight away, maybe if I had this wouldn't be happening. Maybe Nick would still be here, he'd be beside me as I sleep and he'd be making my eggs when I woke up. Maybe if I'd had told Nick straight away then we'd have a chance. Me and Nick could've had a chance of surviving. But I left it too late, I'd told him too late and now we couldn't be saved.

I'd lost everything because I'd made a mistake. A mistake that's all it was. A stupid mistake that meant nothing, it would never mean anything. Although it meant nothing, it had ruined everything.

Because I felt dirty and I felt vile and I felt every feeling I never wanted to feel because of him. I couldn't look at him, I couldn't hear Nick talk about him, and I just couldn't cope with it. Because every time his name was mentioned I remembered, I remembered that afternoon and everything about it.

I could remember every tiny detail, the room number, the covers on the bed, the coldness of the room, his hands on me, my hands on him, our lips, our bodies, everything. I could remember it all and I didn't want to. I wanted to forget. But I couldn't, I couldn't forget a single detail.

Each night I'd consume more wine than considered healthy to try and forget, I'd go out with Nick, I'd go out with Michelle, I'd stay in with Nick. Nothing would work. I couldn't enjoy my favourite TV series because I'd only think of the TV on the wall in the hotel room. I couldn't boil the kettle because I'd only think of the white kettle in the corner of the hotel room. I'd had to buy new bed sheets because the ones I had were too similar to the ones in that hotel room. I couldn't drink champagne. I couldn't do anything.

Nick knew, Nick knew of my dishonesty. I'd told him after months of dealing with my guilt, my regret. His look of hurt and his body becoming weak as the words came out my mouth; the images were etched in my brain. He wouldn't sit down so I just told him, I told him everything. He didn't say a word, not a word but his eyes brimmed with tears and his breath was caught in his throat. Then he'd left. He walked out.

When he'd returned the next day I apologised, I'd apologised from the moment he entered the flat till the moment he left. He barley said a word, in fact he said eleven, "We both love each other but we just can't be together."

His words broke me. Every eleven of them because I knew I'd lost the best thing because I'd been dishonest. I'd made myself feel dirty and down and disgusting and worthless and vile. I battled the feeling every day, every day since it had happened. I'd cuddle up to Nick at night and tell him I love him which was the truth. It would always be the truth. Then I'd close my eyes and try and sleep. Sometimes it worked, sometimes if I pressed my body against Nick enough and felt his warmth I'd fall asleep. Other nights it wouldn't be that simple because every time I'd close my eyes he'd be there.

When Nick found out he'd left, of course he left. Who wouldn't? But as soon as Nick left my feelings could no longer be battled. There was no point in battling them. So I gave up. I gave up on myself and there was nothing anyone could do.

The drink stung as I allowed it to flow through my veins, I drank and drank till I couldn't remember what I'd done or who I was. And one night I drank and drank every drop of alcohol in my flat and I took the pills, the pills the doctor had been so hesitant to prescribe me, I took them and one by one they passed through my throat. They mixed together, the drugs and the alcohol and I didn't care.

I didn't care because I didn't want to be me, I didn't want to feel anything. I never wanted to feel anything ever again.