The Wounded Love novel Chapter 8

"Well get ready, dear. I know you girls had a wild night yesterday but that's no excuse. Angela and Kristen are already dressed." Kristen was Angela's older sister. Her perfect older sister who was studying to become a lawyer. Then Angela who was taking on the responsibility of being a housewife. For some reason my family valued that.

Mother let out a frustrated sigh. "Come on I'll help you. Go take a shower. You smell like liquor."

Letting my mother dress me, brush out my hair, and curl it with that burning searing hot curling iron was hell. H E double hockey sticks!

"How often do you put on lotion?"

"What kind of shampoo do you use? Your hair is so dry."

"Are you sure those underwear aren't too revealing?"

"That bra is a little too tight, don't you think?"

She asked me those and questions similar to them for over an hour, it felt more like five. On top of the mental abuse I also had to trust her with that iron near my head and the pointy pencil near my eye.

After that tortuous hour and a half we headed off to the hall where the rehearsal dinner was going to take place. It was filled with mostly friends. Our family was small. The circle of friends-?real or fake was huge. I didn't even know half of them.

I got a lot of, "Oh my goodness! The last time I saw you, you were like this." Then they would motion to the area that was their genitalia. Disturbing, I know.

I also got a lot of older women randomly come up to me at the worst possible times, like while I was in the middle of chewing my chicken and kiss me or give me a suffocating hug. Whatever happened to personal space? My bubble was being invaded. The food was good though.

It took me a few minutes to catch my breath. He was in love with me? He didn't like the fact that I would move one, the man who was marrying my cousin tomorrow didn't want me to move on? The hypocrisy! Why did he propose to her in the first place? My head was drowning in a million and one questions, too many questions to keep track of, never mind find answers to.

It was his fault that things didn't work out. He had began to act like the type of man who wanted to be let go so I let him go. Two weeks after the breakup I found out that he was with Angela. Not just talking to her, but with her.

I ran a hand through my curled hair, trying to make sense of what just happened when I realized that it didn't matter. I wasn't in love with him anymore. Sure it hurt me, sure I felt betrayed, but dwelling on those feelings, allowing them to consume my mind wasn't going to get me anywhere. I had to let the hurt the anger, everything, I had to let it all go. Tomorrow he would marry Angela, and I would do my best to stay out of their life. What I needed to do was acknowledge what I wanted. What did I want to do? After a few minutes of consideration I decided that I want to be stupid. Stupid and reckless. I wanted to move on.

I walked into the hotel, angrily plopping myself down on one of the stools, and demanded that the bartender serve me three drinks all at once.

I chugged them down like nothing. Like they were cups of milk. I didn't care if this was me becoming an alcoholic. Three nights in a row featured me in this same stupid seat. I simply couldn't find that emotion, the rational one that made you care. The one that told you the difference between right and wrong.