Michael
If guilt had a taste it would burn like liquor and the hungover? It felt like slow death.
I sat down at the breakfast table that Sunday morning, my mind was miles away, my head pounding hard and I could feel nausea gnawing at me, feeling like I could throw up any moment.
Last night was a nightmare. I got myself so drunk on purpose trying to drown the guilt of sleeping with Heather, I drowned them in a bottle of tequila and bourbon. It was a suicidal mission; my father had to send his bodyguards to drag me home.
Rumor has it I peed on my pants and ever since then my father’s been furious with me.
Heather was sitting right before me, her auburn hair wavy and glossy, red lips widened into a laugh that filled the room. I spotted the diamond ring on her left hand as she brushed m
