Last night never happened.

Last night never happened.

Last night never happened.

Replay after replay of the same phrase in my head. And it still didn't help in the slightest.

My hand trembled as it reached for the toilet handle above me and flushed. Hunched over the white bowl, the side of my head rested tiredly against the toilet seat as I readied myself to vomit some more. The lavender strap of my silk night gown escaped my left shoulder as I readjusted my knees to a laying position. The hardness of my marble floor was wearing them out, and I couldn't stand being in that placement any longer.

I found it quite tragic that it had barely hit the crack of dawn and here I was:

Hacking out my guilt.

I should be thrown in solitary confinement for what I've done. Evidence of my crime still lingered on my skin. In my mind.

What the fuck was I thinking? Better yet, what in the fuck is wrong with me? Am I mentally ill? Is that what it is? Because only a sick son of bitch would've done the things I had done last night.

Disgust couldn't begin to describe the boiling pot of discontent I have towards my self right now. I'm twisted, and pathetic, and. . .evil.

Yeah, that's what I am. Evil. I'm an evil piece of shit. That is the only plausible characteristic that I could possibly obtain that makes me do all of the fucked up shit I am guilty of. Which explains why things don't ever turn out right for me. I don't deserve anything. I don't deserve my friends or family, I don't deserve success, I don't deserve love—

I don't deserve my husband.

Fuck.

Tears slowly burned the crevices of my red eyes as the love of my life, my soulmate, came into play. How could I have done this without thinking about him? Why didn't it ever occur to me how horribly this would affect him? Affect us?

I can't lose him. He means everything to me. I wouldn't know how to cope if I lost him. How to live. I can't lose everything we have, everything we've built. . .

My head dunked back into the toilet, honey brown curls parading around my face and hitting the toilet water as I threw up for the umpteenth time. This was too much for my body to handle. This was too much for me to handle in general.

I put myself, my career—my marriage all on the line.

And now. . .now I don't know what I'm going to do if anybody finds out.

If. . .if. . .

Wait. That's it.

If.

Abruptly, a soft knock outside the bathroom door erupted my thoughts followed by a concerned baritone.

"Baby, you okay?"