I Thought It Was Just Me Novels & Stories

The misunderstanding would disappear. The more I thought about it, the more I felt that it was not a big deal. In fact, I was even a little excited.

I said and went back to my previous place and sat down. What the hell just happened...I- I didn't mean to do that. I wasn't even thinking...I- I knew it was a stupid idea...why did I say it then?! But it seemed like a good thing to say in that moment...I wanted to say it...what the fuck just happened? I am so confused...

I said what I have been thinking all the way back, I didn’t mention it to my friends because they will think I’m just a damn selfish fuck. But I know this look, I know it very well, it is similar to the way I look at Misha. It was full of ownership.

Like I was convenient. Why did I think this would be different? Why did I think giving him myself again would make him stay, or notice me? There’s no one else to blame....Just me. I slide off the desk slowly, my legs unsteady, my dignity scraped raw but still intact. I don’t look away as I reach for my clothes. If he thinks I’m going to vanish quietly, he’s wrong. Because whatever he thinks this was, It wasn’t nothing. And neither am I.

After years of loneliness, sadness, and feeling unwanted. So why? Why couldn’t I say it back? The words were right there, sitting on the edge of my tongue, and still, nothing. I exhale slowly, dragging a hand down my face. “God… what must he think?” I push myself up from the chair abruptly, the energy in my body refusing to stay still as I start pacing the small stretch of kitchen floor, as if that might help me think more clearly. “He probably thinks I don’t care,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Great. Fantastic. Well done, Betty. Truly impressive work you did there.”

I tried to label it as a passing thought, dismissing it as mere imagination, but the truth whispered softly in the recesses of my consciousness—I couldn't lie to myself, not this time. The more I resisted, the more the memory expanded, filling the vast expanse of my mind. It played on a loop, like a broken record, each repetition etching the moment deeper into my soul. Doubt crept in, its icy tendrils wrapping around my heart, questioning my own perception. Was I overthinking? Was this just a figment of an overactive imagination?

Nоthіng mоrе. I inwardly сhаѕtіѕеd mуѕеlf for bеіng аn іdіоt аnd getting саrrіеd аwау. I was tоо dеер іn mу thоughtѕ to realise wе wеrе outside my hоuѕе.

But somewhere deep down underneath all of it one thought sat cold and still and wouldn't move no matter how hard I pushed. Oh God, I thought. Please don't let it be who I think it is. Please....

A faint smear of lipstick near my collarbone No. Not lipstick. Too dark. I touch it. It doesn’t smear. Teeth. My breath leaves me slowly. This wasn’t gentle. This wasn’t soft. I was hungry. And I can’t remember a second of it. Anger starts to burn through the fog. Not at the marks. In the blank space in my head. I grip the sink harder. Think. I remember leaning against the bar. I remember someone stepping into my space without asking permission. “You look bored,” a voice had said.

"Or mауbе you think thаt I do that ѕоrt of thіng wіth everyone." "Uh. Nо. I dіdn't..." I felt mу fасе fluѕh as Tanya's аnd hеr frіеnd'ѕ еуеѕ bоrе into mе. "It fеlt... I fеlt vеrу special. I dоn't thіnk уоu'rе lіkе thаt." I wаѕ fumbling fоr a wау to tаkе mу fооt out оf mу mоuth. "It's juѕt that I dоn't think оf myself аѕ all that mеmоrаblе."