I turned the living room lights off and collapsed on the couch with a groan after Clay left. I knew I wasn't going to sleep, my body didn't even need sleep, I just wanted to relax if it was even possible with this horrible headache.

I stared at the ceiling for way too long, trying to understand why I gave a fuck in the first place. The worst thing is that if I watched this whole thing from a 3rd person's point of view, I'd probably blame whoever did the stupid shit I was doing.

Yeah, Clay's been right all along. Why did I not think of the possibility of them turning out to be terrible or even dangerous people before offering them a shelter? I didn't even think of that being an option.

And even after it didn't backfire... What do I want from Clay? Why am I acting like I was an angel sent from the heavens to heal his broken heart? I should just fuck off and mind my own business, especially when he despises every single cell in my body.

I say that every time. Every fucking time I have a conversation with him, I decide that it's the last one. And this one isn't an exception either, I'm sure. I know my actions aren't reasonable, but guess what? I still enjoy having them around, I still would feel guilty telling them to live, and I still think Clay's only a jerk because he's just hurt.

Every day I regret more and more surviving the toilet flush my mom performed on me 22 years ago. And every day I see more and more of the effects it had on me.

The only thing that gives me satisfaction is the sound of the bed creaking every now and then. Keeps me hoping that he's twisting and turning, thinking about everything that just happened.

"Will you be there next to me when I wake up?"

What a fucking idiot. Why would he say that? As if I wasn't pissed enough?

Why am I repeating his stupid little words in my head? That's exactly what he wants, right? To emotionally exhaust me and prove that "the world is not as kind as I think"-

Stop. Repeating. His words.

I hate him. There, I said it.

And it didn't even feel good or relieving.

Ugh, I don't hate him I just want to punch him. Actually, I don't even want to punch him.

I don't know what I want from him. It's just the fact that he's so messed up but won't admit it, the way he's so confident and stubborn and-

Ugghhhh.

Okay. I'm done for now.

I'm just gonna go shower and make the water extra hot to defrost my brain and hopefully make it work. The fact that Nick was the one who fixed the broken shower head makes me wonder if I really should risk it or not. I see some tape around the metal, and it doesn't even look like waterproof tape. The thing is hanging on for dear life.

Whatever, I just hope that if it falls, it lands between my ass cheeks.

I double-check after I lock the door cause it's terrifying to think about Clay coming in. I have this strong belief that he'll come in, see my tits, scream, and blame me for invading his personal space.

I stayed in the shower for an eternity. The only thing that made me get out was the discomfort of my wrinkly fingertips.

The whole house was dark, not a single light was on so I decided to come out with a towel. Not like I had other choice, my clothes were already spinning in the washing machine.

And only when I get to the couch do I realize that all of my clothes are in the room. Yeah, the room. And I see the light of his PC screen through the glass parts of the door. No way in hell I'm going in there.

Okay, I have a plan that is probably not going to work. But I'm still gonna try. I grab my phone and find the chat I was looking for immediately.

Anastasia: are you up

Anastasia: pls say yes

I stare at my phone screen. And thank god, he reads.

Dick🍆: i wasnt but that shower was loudd💦💦

Not the emojis again.

Anastasia: ok good

Anastasia: can you bring me a shirt?

I see him typing, deleting, typing, deleting, until he eventually sends.

Dick🍆: what shirt🤨

Anastasia: a shirt or a sweater or something that's long enough to cover my ass

The towel I have on me is not only short, but my cleavage is out as well. I'll be way more comfortable going to that room and grabbing undies and clothes in something that covers more skin.

Dick🍆: like a gown?

I should've texted George.

Anastasia: read my previous text again

Dick🍆: ur almost my height i dont have anything tHAT long

I sigh.

Anastasia: okay come here then

If it was any other day, I wouldn't give a fuck. Like, the other day I was willing to change infront of Clay. But I feel like after all of this, if I go in looking like this, it'll be like I'm asking for it at this point.

I hear a thump and know that it was Nick jumping down from the bunk bed. Seconds later he's here, and he's shining his phone flashlight to navigate through the living room. What a view it must be for him.

He parts his mouth but I quickly signal him to shut up. Then I make him turn off the flashlight and start whispering.

"Go to Clay's room," I start, "bottom right drawer, grab any pair of underwear. Anything, alright? And there's a pile of long sleeping shirts on the chair, grab one and come here, okay?"

Not only his eyes looked tired and baggy from just waking up, but the confusion also added to that, making him look like me during my finals week.

"Wha.. why?" At least he whispers and doesn't scream.

"Just do it, okay?" I couldn't explain the situation to him even if I tried to, "If Clay asks questions, don't answer him."

I know I'm asking for too much at this point, but he's sweet enough to just nod and go. I forgot to ask for a blanket, but I probably won't even sleep, so I think it's okay.