Guilt ridden

He opened his eyes and stared blankly at the darkness. As they adjusted, he slid his left arm from under the pillow and groped for his phone on the nightstand beside the bed.

Grabbing it, he slid the bar to unlock his phone as his eyes read the notifications glowing crystal bright against the darkness. 24 missed calls and five messages from his girlfriend as well as a text message from Sara. He ignored them for the moment and continued scanning the screen for the time. The analog digits flicker and change. "3:13 am" it flashed menacingly at the boy's drooping eyes.

"Still early," he whispers.

Suddenly, he feels the bed. The texture was different. Smoother and softer somehow, not like the usual bed he always slept on which was rough and hard.

He groans, an overwhelming sense of dread enveloping him.

He rolls over to his left just as an arm reaches over and wraps him in its embrace. The guilt he felt was overwhelming.

He pushes his body against this new restraint and looks at the woman lying next to him. Her eyes were closed as her shoulder-length hair, dyed red, covered the left half of her face.

Janice was sleeping soundly next to him. Blanket wrapped around her torso defending herself from the cold emanating from the vibrating air-con unit above them, her left arm resting on his neck.

Very slowly, he lifts her arm and places it beside her while he pushes his body up off the bed and walks to the dressing table across the room. He averts his eyes from the reflection staring back at him from the mirror. The guilt riding on top his shoulders was bearing him down.

'How did the night end up like this?' he asked himself. How could the boy have known that when she texted him that evening after arriving home from Germany for work, the word "present" didn't mean a souvenir she'd brought back from Munich or Berlin?  How could he have known that while he was talking to her about boundaries and restrictions and the prospect of keeping their relationship strictly platonic, she had other things on her mind? The boy could never have known.

His relationship with his girlfriend was rocky, but for this to happen was unacceptable.

The weight of the guilt began to cut into his shoulders. The drove him to the ground. He knew he needed to get out of there.

Putting on his pants, he looked around for his shirt. He glanced towards the bed and decided it was best to go home shirtless - it was snugly being worn by Janice.

He crept quietly out of the room and out of the apartment. Riding the elevator down to the lobby, the boy stared at his reflection in the glass. His eyes, once bright were now dark and emotionless. He averted them from that pitiful view.

As he crossed the threshold of the lobby to the steps outside its front doors, he stops and sits down on a step.

Pulling out his phone, he reads the five texts. The usual, 'where are you?', 'why aren't you picking up my phone calls?'. Each text was more persistent and demanding than the one before.

He dismissed them and dreaded having to face her later that afternoon. Instead, he opened Sara's. 'Accomplishment (y)' it merely read. Well at least someone had fun. He reminded himself to congratulate her later. He knew he would have to talk to her about what happened and would feel the brunt of her disappointment. He'd like it if she would scream at him and tell him how disgusting he was and how ever find it in himself to do this to someone. But that's up to her. He wouldn't mind it the boy told himself. Sara had earned that right and several times over. He needed his best friend. But she's probably dreaming of her recent escapade involving a bloke and lots of tongue.

'Let her have that dream tonight,' he told himself. 'She's deserved it.'

He picks himself up off the ground and walks to his car. Just as he reaches it, his pocket buzzes and cell phone rings. 'Janice' it glows. She's finally woken up and was wondering where he was. He'll call her another time. He has more pressing problems to sought out. The straps of guilt were still digging into his shoulders wearing him down.

'Oh, god. Why?' the emotional bombardment ruthlessly hacking away at his insides, throat expanding as the sudden wave of nausea overcomes him. He suppresses the urge to purge.

The drive back should be hell with him left alone with his own thoughts. He knew they would be just as merciless.