“They’re all yours,” he finished, pushing the heavy wooden doors and scrambling out into the cold.
“No. I don’t want this anymore,” I replied barely above a whisper.
Being in high school, this all seemed to be fun and cool. I could show off my pride. I used to be the name on every girl’s heart, wrist and even on those intimate areas. I was a major heartthrob to be precise. Girls would literally throw themselves at me, and I, being the man I was, never disappointed them.
Today, however, I do not even feel like looking at another girl with those eyes of lust and desperation to lie. The inner feeling of guilt eating me from the inside never lets those dreadful memories fade. They flash before me every second.
It had been four years, I was just 19 then, someone who had just stepped into freedom! But, that year life had something else planned. It changed me, my life and scarred me to inferno and back.
Looking at the deeds I did was nothing compared to that night, that left nightmares as an aftermath. Like a mark of crime, selfishness and lust, forever blemished on my body that still shamelessly stood now in a room filled with strawberry scented candles and a girl ready on the bed, ready to lose her virginity, again.
I shook my head vigorously, unhooked my shirt from the girl’s arms, and rushed out into the open. I threw the shirt towards my convertible, and growled in frustration.
This convertible was another piece of memory that latched itself to me from that night. I always prayed—and still do—for that night to come back so, I could undo all my deeds and set myself free of the burden I carried which had already killed me into millions of pieces of guilt.
My deeds were unforgivable and shamelessly continuing them, just added to my miseries. My past and the deadly black of a convertible haunted me. It is as if a demon clung to me, which I couldn't free myself from. No matter how hard I tried.