Chapter 8: Sweet madness

I know I hurt his feelings, and it only adds to the reasons why I hate myself so much. It only convinces me more that I'm not the right girl for him.

Even though he found his way under my skin. And even though I can't seem to stop thinking about his lips on mine.

That kiss…

I've only ever kissed one boy before, and it was Jacob. But this kiss…

He's not a boy anymore, and even though men tend to scare me much more than boys do, I very much liked kissing this man. Too much actually.

I noticed that he was getting strong feelings during the little hand massage.

I was too, in a way. It was a warm and intimate moment, it was the perfect moment for a kiss.

That is probably why I didn't pull back. I sort of went with the flow for just one second, and I kissed him back.

I know that he felt it too, it was clear in the confusion on his face minutes later.

I don't think I ever felt so torn before.

I hate the voice in my head that ruined the moment, but I also truly believe it. Everything about me proves that the voice is right.

That I am wrong.

So very wrong for wanting that kiss to last longer. For looking at his lips the next few days.

His lips have been quiet.

I know he's hurt, but there is nothing I can say or do to make it better. I'd only make it worse. I'd want to kiss him again, confuse him all over, pull him closer to me and push him away again. And hate myself for it.

No, I just need to give him some time.

And myself as well. To stop craving those lips...

What is up with that anyway? I never needed that kind of affection. I guess I always saw any romantic action as a hidden way to get into my pants. And yet with him, I know that's not what it was about. He felt the same way I did. And it was wonderful.

He tasted like warmth, his hands on my cheeks felt like home. The way he leaned into me, with the sweetest of sighs...

Stop.

Stop craving his kiss. It won't happen, it can't.

I must not allow it.

When I look up from my cup of soup, I catch him staring at me and he quickly looks away. I thought he was busy preparing some dinner, but instead he was leaning against the counter, facing me.

The question is right there in the air. 'What are you thinking.' He always asks me that when he gives me this look.

But not this time.

Maybe he's given up.

The thought fills me with relief and with sadness equally. I came close to telling him more, back in that couch, lying in his arms. But I couldn't in that moment. Not when he was feeling so… loving towards me. Especially not then.

And now he stopped asking so my secrets are safer again.

Slowly, he walks towards the door and grabs his coat. I want to ask where he's going. It's late and he usually stays in to get an early night. Being a pro and all.

But he doesn't tell and I don't ask.

Instead, I should be the one to get an early night.

But I can't. I need to know he's okay. I can't sleep, thinking that he's out there, in a pub somewhere, drinking or doing whatever, just to get away from me.

The guilt is almost making me call him to ask if he's alright, but I can keep myself from doing that, just long enough to hear his key turn the lock.

Relief washes over me. My Jacob is home again.

It's pathetic really. What am I ever going to do if he moves on in his life without me? How will I ever go back to living alone, now I've grown so used to his kind company?

Before I can get up from the couch and pretend to ignore him while I casually go to sleep, my heart drops in my stomach when I hear another voice as the door opens.

"Hahaha," her shrill voice laughs, "stop doing that."

Both Jacob and this girl stumble inside, giggling, holding on to each other.

They seem pretty tipsy, but as soon as he enters, his eyes find mine in the dark room.

I'm still too shocked to actually respond. Here I was, thinking he'd be sad out there, when he really was picking up girls.

Now I wish I had gone to bed to avoid this situation. It's starting to get awkward when the girl clearly has no idea they are not alone in the dark room. She leans into him and starts kissing his neck, while her hand moves to the front of his pants in a very unsubtle way.

I quickly get up and clear my throat.

"Um, I'm going to sleep," I say.

The girl slowly turns around and gives me a surprised smile.

"Who is this," she asks Jacob without looking at him. Instead she checks me out, and I hate the fact that I'm wearing my old cozy pajamas and that she's so much taller and skinnier than I am.

"This is my roommate Bella," Jacob says, while pulling the girl close to his side so that she wouldn't get insecure. She doesn't seem like the insecure type anyway and she clearly doesn't fear me, I notice by the pitiful looks she's giving me.

"Hi sweetie," she chirps in a fake friendly voice.

I manage a forced smile and look at Jacob.

"Meet Brittany," he says with a pointed look, "she's someone else. I'm with someone else tonight."

I finally get it. He's trying to prove something.

"Maybe we should go into your room", Brittany says with a naughty grin, interrupting our long eye contact.

"That's okay," I mutter, "I was about to go to sleep anyway."

"Oh no sweetie," she slurs, "don't let us scare you away, we were going to sleep too, right Jakey?" she giggles.

"Right," he says, before taking her hand and pulling her with him into his room.

There I am, in the middle of the dark living room, in my worn pajamas.

And suddenly the thought of going to sleep, right next to his room, doesn't seem so appealing anymore.

But I still do.

The voice inside my head tells me that this is exactly what I deserve. I wanted him to move on.

Okay, maybe I didn't want him to bring home a drunken bimbo, but I won't judge. This girl probably has more to offer him than I do. And the proof of that is clear by the noises coming through the wall. They both giggle and stumble through his room, possibly taking each others clothes off right now.

I get underneath my covers but I fight the urge to cover my ears with my pillow. I deserve to hear this.

I hurt him and I deserve to hear his revenge.

Her voice makes me sick, but the long minutes in which I hear no sounds at all make me even more sick. It means they are kissing, or maybe more.

Probably more.

After a while, I hear new sounds. In between her fake moans and sighs, I hear their mattress creak, I hear his soft grunts and I start to cry.

Instead of finally allowing myself to escape - my earphones are right next to me on the nightstand - I open the drawer and pull out an old friend. I turn the razor blade around between my fingers, spinning it, while the torturous part of my brain keeps focusing on the sounds he is making.

Should it really hurt so much when all I want is friendship?

Maybe he was right. Maybe I'm selfish enough to want him for myself. Or maybe I just need to be stronger.

For him. He's better off with her. And she's already giving him things I can't give him.

As he's nearing his orgasm, the razor blade carelessly moves over my arm. The familiar sting and the warm drops make me high enough to ignore the warm tears on my cheeks.

At last, the sounds of his bliss fade away and I can finally breathe again.

To avoid sobbing, I pull my knees up against my chest and the razor blade falls to the ground. It will take a long time before my tears will stop falling, but I know that in the end, the anger will take over again.

I'll hate myself for allowing too much, for craving something that I can't have. For thinking about his lips all day, the lips I pulled away from, and then get hurt when they kiss someone else.

I hear his bedroom door open and wait for the sound of the bathroom door. Instead, there is silence, and then a soft thump on my door.

A whisper.

I keep quiet, pretending to sleep, but I'm very much awake, trying to figure out the sounds I'm hearing.

"Bella," his voice whispers.

I want him to go away. He should never see me like this, but instead of telling him to go, I pretend to sleep. He should go back to her and stop thinking about me.

There's no such luck for me. I quickly wipe my face when he slowly opens the door and walks into my room, to sit on my bed. The room is dark, I can only see his outline against the low light that comes through my door.

He sighs.

"Why didn't you stop me?" he whispers.

I simply shrug, even though he can't see me. I'm totally confused. Was I supposed to stop him then?

"Is this really what you want?" he continues.

I want to say no. He clearly knows that I'm awake, but I don't trust my voice and to my disgust, I notice that there are still tears running down my cheeks.

He sighs again.

"Bella," he starts, but then he shifts on the mattress.

"What is this?" he asks.

Mortification hits me when I realize what he means.

He gets up, pulls the cover away from me and gasps.

"Bella!"

"Shush," I mutter, wishing that he'd leave now before he sees too much, and hoping that the bimbo won't be alarmed by our whispers and enter my room.

"Oh, Bella, what have you done, I need to call 911," he whispers urgently.

"No! No, it's okay. It's nothing, it'll heal."

I try to cover up the battle field that was my arm just an hour ago, but he's already holding my hand and pulling my arm into the light.

"Shit," his panicked voice mutters.

I pull my hand back, "it's really nothing, nothing deep, look," I quickly wipe at the cuts with my sheet, causing the wounds to bleed again.

"Stay here," he orders, and steps out of my room.

This time I do hide myself underneath my pillow. This night is only getting worse. First there's this unbridgeable distance between us, then I have to listen to my Jacob making love to that … girl, and now I'm even more humiliated when he notices I've been cutting myself.

Soon enough he'll realize the razor being here wasn't a coincidence, and he'll understand what kind of freak I am.

When he walks in again, he doesn't pull the pillow away from me and allows me to hide while he cleans up my arm with a cold wet towel. He expertly puts a bandage on my arm, all the while holding my hand firmly in his.

When he's done, I notice that he's calm again. He probably decided that the wounds are indeed not very deep and nothing to worry about.

I move the pillow away from my mouth to say, "you didn't have to do that. You can go back to her now."

"She sleeps," he replies, as if that explains why he's sitting with me instead of lying next to her.

There's a long silence, and when he finally moves, I get angry at myself again for being disappointed that he's about to leave.

Instead of getting up though, he pulls away the covers and lays down next to me, pulling me close against his chest.

I don't push him away. I couldn't if I wanted to. Even if I hate him as much as I hate myself right now, especially the smell of her on him, I need him close.

"I'm sorry," he breathes, and then quietly starts to sob. I wrap my bandaged arm around his waist and pull him closer, in an attempt to let him know that it's okay. Even though it's very much not okay.

"I'm so sorry, Bella, I had no idea," he whispers again.

I'm not sure what he's referring to, but I don't respond. All I can think is that no matter what he thinks he found out tonight, he still has no idea. He may have discovered another level of me being completely fucked up, but he knows nothing yet.

And because I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, how we'll act around each other, or how much I'll hate the both of us for all the messed up shit that happened tonight, I stop the fight for now. The voice is finally quiet.

It's easier to believe in this sweet madness, this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees.

I allow myself to fall asleep in his arms.

AN: Some new stuff going on in this chapter. Do you think things will change now?