Every single muscle in my body was frozen in place, refusing to cooperate. My thoughts were speeding through my head, my heart was pounding all the way into my ears. I'm sure I was hungry, and that my stomach was throwing a fit, but at this point, remembering to breathe was my top priority. I could still taste the alcohol in my mouth, and glimpses of last night kept flashing before my eyes. I was acutely aware of the pain between my legs, I was sore and I now understood why people traditionally adopted a....gentler pace and method. I could hardly move. It was hard to think of a time when I'd felt like this previously. Not when my mother left. Not when my father once introduced me as his assistant.
What was really destroying me bit by bit was my sudden self-awareness. It wasn't the rejection....waking up alone. It wasn't because of the obvious amendment to the 'stay and cuddle after deflowering' protocol. It was because when all things were said and done... I only had myself to blame. I had put myself in this position, I had antagonized the situation. This was my problem, my mess.
The sun was setting my curtains ablaze, the white lace glowing. I was stuck in a light box. No where to go. No place to hide. Everyone would be watching my next move. This was a game of strategy, I would be judged on my decisions. But what I hated the most, and what I was markedly aware of... was that not a single part of me wanted to take the cautious move. The safe play. For the first time in my life, I was free to make my own choice... But I could not walk away in one piece... that wasn't even an option. I had lost my virginity, and had woken up alone. I wasn't disillusioned. I was aware that now, any interaction with the players would be forced, insincere, riddled with double entendres. Of course they would all know by now.
I never saw myself as being a complicated person. Or as a fickle little girl. I never acted like a brat, and I never begged for my daddy to fly me to Cancun for spring break. I have always been reclusive. Boxed into my own world. Protecting myself from all of the outside elements. Elements that were not controlled for me or by me.
Last night, I had made a choice. One that at this point in time, I knew I would regret.
One that I could not take back. Ever.
This was the worst thing that could ever happen to me... but we all knew it was coming. This, dear friends, was my own self-destruction. I could concede to everyone's expectations, and act like nothing is wrong. Like everything is fine and dandy. Or, I could act out and confront the problem head on.
Truth be told, all I want is to bask in my mistake. I want to sit in my corner and feel like shit. Feel like everything has been ripped apart, and all of my limbs, torn from my body.
Last night's events kept running through my head, and my mind was playing games with me, I kept feeling his fingers on my skin. I could feel him behind me, his breath on my neck as his lips touched my skin. I could feel his fingers ghosting soft touches down my back, tickling my spine. Every hair on my body was standing on edge, my heart speeding up. I knew he wasn't there. I knew that no one was. And if I was being honest with myself, I wasn't all too sure I wanted it to be him.
Mostly, I was completely overwhelmed by what my body had felt last night. The sensations had set me on fire and opened a door that I had kept locked all these years. And that scared me.
Everyone has their breaking point, and everyone has a sort of ebb and flow. And in mere hours, suddenly everything focused, and I saw the proverbial light.
I was a broken girl. I had never known the simple pleasures of childhood; watching television shows after school (Cello and violin lessons), going to my classmates' birthday parties (Weekends were usually spent traveling with my father to away games), summer camp (Daddy liked going to play golf in Florida, and Mommy enjoyed the south of France, and I was their personal suitcase puller).
I had never been hugged and loved by my parents, always second to a game or a new boyfriend. I had literally become this shell of a woman. If someone were to ask me my fondest childhood memory, I wouldn't be able to answer. Or if someone were to ask me what was the biggest fight that I had with my parents during my adolescence, I wouldn't be able to describe a single moment. I had never acted out, never argued. I was the perfect child, in the way that I did not exist to them. I was a doll that they dressed up and made up, and once they were through playing with me, they'd set me back on the shelf, and let some dust gather.
Who the fuck am I? I've spent the entirety of my life banking on escapism, and the hiding under the protective blanket of my father's success. I have nothing. I am no one without my family.
Bella Swan, daughter of Charlie.
Bella Swan, Renee's mistake.
Bella Swan, Edward Cullen's unfortunate, inexperienced, one time lover.
It was clear to me now. This turning point, coupled with the shattering of my spirit was exactly what I needed. This rock bottom would force me to discover who I am. Without anyone else. Without my father or my mother, or my grandfather's good name.
I would discover myself on my own terms.
I stood up slowly, picking up the white feather duvet, wrapping it around my body. It took me a moment or two to balance myself before dragging my feet to the washroom.
I filled the large white claw-foot tub with warm water, adding a handful of Epsom salts before dropping the duvet and climbing into the tub. I felt like a small child, scattering my limbs, trying to crawl into her parents' bed. The hot water made my skin sting a bit, and yet I couldn't even manage a wince.
I sunk down slowly into the bath, the water reaching just below my lower lip. I inhaled sharply before submerging my entire body under the water.
Everything was quiet down here.
