Olivia
I know I should not be sharing things like these with a stranger, even if that stranger is the best fuck I ever had.
I don’t even know his name. I need to share it, though.
I needed to tell someone. The burden of what I did all these years ago still follows me.
I miss him. I miss how sweet Ryker was with me.
How he would take care of me, buy me gifts, and treat me to snacks and breakfast every morning.
He knew I needed everything he was offering.
I would have never been able to be popular if he didn’t buy me nice clothes.
If he didn’t introduce me to his best friend, who made sure everyone knew my name.
He was my popularity, and I knew that. Which made it even weirder that he didn’t have any of his own.
It was almost like he was an outcast on purpose, like he rejected the world I was so eager to be a part of.
Now I see that this is what it was. He wasn't a part of the popular groups; he wasn’t going out every night.
All by choice. He would pick fights, but he wasn’t a bully.
He was standing up for the kids who got bullied.
Shame washes over me; I realize that he was always the good one, the one I should have been with.
I ruined every chance to be with him, and I don’t understand exactly how this strange man has made me see this.
He didn’t say much while I was explaining the story, and he still remained silent, stroking my hair and wiping my tears long after I finished talking.
In a sense, though, just sharing it, vocalizing it, was the only thing I needed to clear my vision.
Ryker, even when he accepted his punishment, was doing me a favor.
He only fought enough to not have a criminal record but completely accepted the psych ward option.
Everyone had pitied me for having a stalker; that’s what they thought about him.
They treated me even better after that night.
Friends offered to drive me around since I was without a car.
Even people I didn’t know would come to me to say how sorry they were for what happened to me.
I became the victim when, in reality, I was not.
Ryker was the victim of my choices and my behavior.
My lies and manipulation led him to that point.
He wasn’t the villain everyone made him out to be; I was.
I had no reason to be that way, no reason to be the bitch I was back then, all so people didn’t notice where I came from. All so they thought I belonged with them. It was all a lie anyway. I don’t belong anywhere. My father didn’t even want me.
What am I doing with my life? This man will see me for the bitch I am too, and he will leave as well.
Not that I thought he would stay; he hasn’t shared even the slightest information about himself.
He has no intention of staying. I repeated the cycle just now by telling him all that.
I am using him to make me feel better, and I am pretty sure he does the same, but that still doesn’t make it okay.
I get up, deciding it is time for this night to come to an end.
"Do you have anything I could wear?" I gesture to my ruined clothes, and he chuckles.
He gets up, moving slowly toward the closet that is connected to the room.
He opens a door, and I see inside. A huge closet that has everything.
The house still looks abandoned, but this room almost appears as if it doesn’t belong to the building to begin with.
It is clean, freshly painted, with new furniture, and apparently, that includes a fully stocked closet with men’s clothing.
From what I can see, everything looks like it is a brand too expensive to be owned by someone who lives in this house.
Something doesn’t add up, not that I should care.
I still believe I should end it here. If he is going to leave anyway when the morning comes, and the night is almost done, there is no point in staying longer.
I walk toward my clothes and purse to check my phone while he is looking through his clothes.
He is searching for something that I can wear.
I open my skull purse and notice the strap is ruined since he cut it along with my clothes.
The phone’s screen lights up, and I see a bunch of messages from Aiden.
I open the chat app and see he was looking for me at first. Then his messages change, and then there is one that was apparently cut off in the middle, as it is followed by a bunch of characters that don’t make sense. I wonder what happened to him.
I need to find him, but first, finding something to wear should be a priority.
I pick up my ruined clothing and underwear and, walking to the bathroom, I toss them in the bin there.
I take a towel that seems clean and wet it, removing my makeup with it.
I fish in my small purse for an elastic band.
I comb my hair with my fingers and toss it into a messy bun to deal with later.
I exit the bathroom to find a pair of men’s boxers on the bed next to an oversized black T-shirt that would cover most of my body and a pair of jeans that were just cut into shorts.
I see the ruined fabric and a pair of scissors next to it.
Since they are all black, the outfit would look put-together. He cut them into shorts for me.
I was about to thank him when I noticed he had left the room without even a goodbye. I put the clothes on, taking one last look in the bathroom mirror before I pick up the whiskey bottle from the floor. I drink what is left in the bottle, needing the liquid courage.
When I exit the room, I notice the party has mostly come to an end. A few people are scattered in the house, but they are mostly talking; the music is low and relaxing. The ones that have stayed are all people close to Kayden.
Speaking of Kayden, I don’t see him anywhere. I am calling Aiden, but his phone goes straight to voicemail. The moment I get down the stairs, I see him getting out of a room while putting his clothes on. I guess he found a victim for the night after all. Well, we both did.