Do you ever wish you could disappear?

I've made my own fair share of stupid decisions, as has the entire human population. We're all programmed to slip up. It's normal. It's what makes us human.

But have you ever messed up so bad, you wish you could beat your own self up silly?

It's as if the person you were at the time of the mistake and the person you are now are entirely different. So now you're conflicted, restless. Embarrassed.

I hope the Earth swallows me whole this instant. I want to crawl into a ditch and die. I want every memory of myself gone, faded, dissolved. I want to disappear.

Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!

I can't stop replaying those damned scenes. Colt between my legs, his fingers thrusting into me eagerly. The kisses, the pleasure, the heat. My cries for him to keep going. Him heeding my wishes, torturing me with those fingers of his. Granting me temporary euphoria.

I have to pinch my arm to pull myself together. Why are these scenes still so vivid? It's been three days since then.

Yet, the memory won't stop taunting me. It's there, everywhere. Even when my mind is full of everything to do with my dull life, it somehow manages to slip through.

Now all I see when I close my eyes is Colt with his face painted in white.

I crouch down, burying my head between my arms. Please let me die!

I'm glad there's no one here in the restroom, because it looks like I'm possessed, fighting some evil spirit or the other. And unsurprisingly, I'm losing.

It's hard to believe that I let that happen. It was a moment of weakness. I just wanted to feel good. I wanted to forget about life and its many obstacles. I wanted to feel somewhat alive and not miserable. Not dreadful and pathetic and sad as always. Colt just happened to be there, offering me the chance free of charge.

And I took it.

I gave him the reigns, I gave him control. And he was all too happy. Too eager.

I couldn't look him in the face after that. I grabbed my bag and left. Haven't seen him ever since.

Things should have gone back to normal. My mind should have let those memories go. But here they are, still causing me anguish.

Enough! I can't have my mind poisoned this way. I have my own life to look after. Plus, if I keep pulling at my hair, I might not have any left come twenty-two.

After washing my hands clean of my sins, I exit the restroom and head for the Jove Diner. There's nothing on my plate for the next forty minutes. Why not lazily dawdle with a cup of Oreo milkshake before then.

"Will that be all for you today?" The cashier asks. She looks far more jolly than I do at the café. Maybe I should transfer over.

I assure her the milkshake is all I need, and she sends me the grand total on the pin pad. Come time to pay the balance however, my card declines, depriving me of my drink.

My mouth turns dry. My paycheck. It hasn't yet hit.

The cashier's smile turns into something more sympathetic. "Would you like to try a different card?"

"No, it's okay—"

"Try mine."

I recognize his voice before I even see him. Colt hands the cashier his card, who runs the transaction without any questions. And soon, I receive a receipt with my order on it.

"Thanks." I tell him, still unable to look him in the face.

Colt shakes his head, as if it's no big deal. "Anything for you."

There he goes again with those sugary words. His feelings for me, when did they even begin? I can't think of a good instance. All he's ever known is this pathetic version of me who tries with all her might and still manages to fail. I don't think I've ever given him a single good reason to be in love with me.

Soon, we're met with a new guest. A girl with short hair who must have arrived at the diner with Colt, because she links her arms with his when she sees me. Even with Savannah and Jenny on his plate, he still has time for others. What a crook.

"You ready?" The girl asks him, all smiles.

Colt returns the gesture, smiling so charmingly I'm sure it melted right through the girl. "Of course."

And then they exit the diner, arms linked, smiles gentle, like the picture perfect couple.

I release a breath of fatigue. In some way, I feel a bit guilty. It feels like I used Colt for my own benefit, and when it came down to it, I tossed him aside, even after his confession.

Should I feel this way? Conflicted? Should I feel pity? Colt Bradshaw is a murderer. Do murderers deserve sympathy?

There's no use mulling over that now. The fact is, I let Colt and his charming smile win me over. I let him seduce me.

___

The days pass with no word from Jenny. I chalk it up to some other boy toy of hers. Or perhaps Colt. She seems to be paying him the most attention out of everyone else thus far.

And therein lies the second issue. What do I tell Jenny? Do I tell Jenny? I've chosen to bury that moment with Colt, but there are other things I failed to leave behind in the casket. Like guilt. Anxiety. Worry, because Jenny had an avid interest in Colt.

Maybe the issue isn't as bad as I'm painting it out to be. I mean, Jenny and Colt aren't that serious. It's not like she was looking for a relationship, as she vividly pointed out. And she still has the rest of her roster. So it's not too bad, is it? Right?

Does she have the right to know? She does, doesn't she? Or does she? Their relationship isn't supposed to be a lengthy one anyway. And Colt already seems to have moved on to a new girl. I'm certain that at this very moment, Jenny has all her time occupied by Option Number One as well.

So it's best left under wraps.

Still, I leave Jenny a message and hope she replies soon.

The rest of the day is rather dry. I'm almost certain the lasting effects of that damned video are wearing off. I don't get much inquisition on what went down between Shane and I before the moment caught on camera. But I do get lingering looks from strangers, probably trying to pinpoint where they've seen me, followed by a very tiring, "It's her. It's that girl."

I think I'm entitled to some form of compensation for this, preferably financial.

It isn't until my third lecture of the day that I run into Colt again, in the science building, on the fourth floor. There aren't many around except us. It almost feels like this was no coincidence.

"I get the feeling you're following me around." He says, all frivolous.

It's almost cute that he thinks that, considering he knows almost everything there is to know about me.

"I haven't heard from my friend in a while, so I'm really not in the mood."

"Your friend, Jennifer?" he asks. "I saw her just down the hall." He points towards the direction.

Jenny's here? Why didn't she let me know? I head in the direction Colt pointed and soon find her by the water fountain, in some texting conversation. She seems very . . . dull today. Which isn't typical Jennifer. What has Option Number Two done this time?

"Jenny, there you are."

She doesn't look at me. She keeps her eyes straight ahead.

"You disappeared again." I tell her. "I was starting to think that guy kidnapped you."

It's then Jenny spares me a look. But this isn't a look I'm used to. It's cold and shrewd and empty and . . . repulsive. And it's all directed at me.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" she asks me.

I'm forced to take a step back. I can't quite sink into this hostile image of Jenny. "What are you talking about?"

Jenny takes another good look at me. "I guess I should have known. You hesitating when I asked you to hook us up, only for you to crawl into that bedroom with him."

My cheeks are burning. It feels like my heart will claw right out of my chest any second. I try calming myself, calming my breathing. But there's only so much I can do. "You were there?"

"Yes, I was. I saw everything. I heard everything," I can hear her voice grow louder. "And to think I was actually trying to make it work. Things were going so well between us. But there you were just throwing yourself at him!"

. . . throwing myself at him? How could she say that when it was so clearly the other way around?

"You really can't believe that he might actually want me?"

She scoffs, as if it really is unbelievable, as if the idea itself were ridiculous. This scorches my skin. It's a sort of venom that seeps through the surface and smolders me from within. Where does she get off on being so arrogant? Because she has a roster? Because she's oh-so-good with men? Because she's desirable?

I get it now. She does not see me as her equal. She sees me as someone lesser, someone that cannot possibly live up to her league. Someone who must always remain beneath her feet.

I don't know where I get the urge. Maybe it's from the clarity of the situation but I begin laughing. It's dry, not at all filled with merit but rather levity. Then I spew it, the verbal vomit.

"Well, guess what? He does want me! He told me himself! And here I was trying to be such a good friend for you, when all you've ever done is spite me. It just always has to be about Jennifer, doesn't it? You want someone to complain to, I'm there for you. You want to whine about your love life, I'm  there for you. But you never truly listened to me, not even once! You couldn't even let me have Shane! Do you think I didn't notice the look on your face when I told you he asked me out? You're just a selfish, shallow, egotistical bitch who would do anything for some male attention!"

My chest is heaving by the time I'm done. I take reality for a dream for a split second, because the idea of addressing Jenny with so much venom has never once crossed my mind. But this is real. I can tell because Jenny'

"You know, I pitied you because you were so pathetic," she says, her voice low. "You can't blame me for doing so. I mean, have you seen your life? How could anyone ever love you when your own parents couldn't?"

This cuts into me quite brutally. I didn't prepare myself in time for these words, and now that they've slipped through my defenses, there's no way to repair the damages.

Jenny grabs her bag and throws it over her shoulder. "Enjoy the attention while it lasts. He'll kick you to the curb come next week." Then she leaves. Just like that.

Just like that, Jenny's gone. I don't know how to feel, what to feel. What should I do now? What do I do? I . . . Should I go back home? Class starts soon, though. Maybe I should take a seat. I should . . .

There's a droplet on the floor. I see another one drop, right next to my feet. And then another, all landing on random spots. Water? It could be. But when I touch my face, I find the answer. These are my tears.

From around the corner, I spot Colt. I have no clue how long he's been there, but it doesn't really matter. Nothing really matters. He walks up to me and pulls me into an embrace. Then he keeps me there, without a word, buried in his arms.

That's when the dam truly breaks. Soon I'm weeping in Colt Bradshaw's arms, in perfect comfort, surrounded by more warmth than I've felt in ages.