The Guilt Trip Novels & Stories

And now here comes another wave, heavier than the last. This time it’s the guilt — the heavy, crushing belief that she had ruined any chances of Ruth and me, when the chances have been zero from the start. That she was the reason everything had blown up, and no matter how much we had planned to tell Ruth the truth tomorrow, she had still become the girl who took what someone else wanted. That her happiness comes at someone else’s expense, and that somehow makes her unworthy of it. I can’t sleep until I fix this.

I scrubbed hard, lathering twice, rinsing twice, dragging my hands over my face like maybe I could wipe away my guilt with soap and steam. Because it was the guilt I was feeling. That was the truth of it. No matter how many times I told myself it didn’t mean anything, I knew it wasn’t just nothing. I knew how close I had come to leaning in, to tasting him, to betraying the one person I swore I’d protect. Sienna.

I took calculated steps towards him as he shook with fear. "Yes. You stabbed me but, I didn't die." I laughed as I punched his jaw. "You idiot. Do you know how it feels to keep recalling the passing away of your loved ones?" I squeezed his neck gritting my teeth. "Their groanings, the pain, the tears, the guilt that I alone survived! Do you know why I endured all that? It's because I foresee the disgrace and shame I will put in your name." I spat as he struggled to breath.

"Is this money dirty? It's your brother's blood! If you don't use it, then he died for nothing!" Her eyes were bloodshot, like a lioness driven into a corner. "From today on, if either of you dares to say you won't study, dares to say you'll go work instead, I'll die right in front of you! Then we'll cheat another insurance payout while we're at it!" Jamie broke down. A boy nearly six feet tall, crying like an infant. Stephanie silently picked up a slice of pot roast and placed it on his plate, then another for Mother.

I reclined back, solely in my underwear now. I was using my 'I'm disappointed in you' voice. Yes, I was 'guilting' a girl into having sex. Duh. I would never coerce a woman, or take one not in her right mind – that's using forces beyond her control. Guilt? Guilt has a foundation squarely in a woman's mind, just like humor, romance, common interests (feigned or not) and horniness. Girls can control guilt just like any other psychological trigger. It is called being shameless and I ought to know.

I continued. “Do not turn it back to me, I am not the one at fault, you are. Stop manipulating me to pity you.” He replied back. I know he is trying his best to come back at me with his words. I know he is trying to hurt me with it. I closed my eyes. “stop blurting out the words that might make you regret about it later.” I mumbled slowly. He laughed at me like I am stupid person. “do you even hear yourself?” he asked me. “You are guilt tripping me now. Isn’t lying to me enough , Maddy?” he asked me.

My eyes were fixed on the cream swirling into the dark coffee, mixing into a balanced color. Melinda sighed. She was sitting across from me, and I know she’s watching me intently. “What’s your plan?” She asked after a few minutes. I took a deep sigh and looked at her. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m being punished for something I didn’t even do. Like…there has been a constant trial in my head. Unending, like a cycle.” She nodded as if she understood me. “That’s what guilt does. It will consume you, slowly, painfully. You would try to reason out and fight it, but there’s only two endings to that. Either, you will give in, or you’ll kill your own conscience.”

Was it wrong of me to go to him, to make the first move? I tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung to me like a second skin. The guilt was suffocating. By the time I finished my tasks, the feeling had spiraled out of control. I couldn’t concentrate on anything. Every time I tried to work, my mind drifted back to the same awful place. I started avoiding everyone, including him. I couldn’t bear the thought of facing him, not when I was drowning in this guilt.

Every attempt to break free, he countered. She’s trapped in a game where he always held the final card. His words twisted something deep inside her, igniting her guilt like gasoline on fire which became lethal for her, paralyzing her thoughts, clouding her mind until she’s completely consumed with her rational thinking slip away, drowned beneath the weight of shame. The guilt didn’t just whisper, it roared, pushing her toward the edge, urging her to end it all. She tried her best to fight it but lost miserably when their agonizing screams played in her head like a broken tape driving her insane.

We had built our relationship so solid for 4 years; a night of lust would spoil it all… Time whirled away while I walked towards the restroom, planning to rinse off the distress on my face. Dave had texted me earlier. “Let's have dinner by 8, babe,” I saw the message, and a flicker of an unknown feeling washed through me. I knew what that was . Guilt ! This was a chance to make it up to him, to apologise for my mistakes, yet I had to see Cole; I couldn't come clean. Sometimes the truth doesn't set you free; the truth makes you trapped in the net that makes you feel bound for so long. I looked at the way I felt.