All About Me by Joanna Mazurkiewicz Page A

India was everywhere, but I was such a coward.
    “ What if I don ’ t, what are you going to do to me? ” she asked, flirtatiously widening her eyes. Okay, I was fucking horny as hell and she looked like she was eager. Sex had been my distraction lately every time my mind wandered off somewhere else — or to be more specific, to someone else.
    In a matter of seconds she took off her T-shirt and bra. She had a great figure, and my dick strained in my trousers as I stared at her breasts. She got rid of her jeans and then approached me, sliding into bed next to me.
    I thought that was enough fucking around. I had to show her that I was the one in control. My mind spun hard and fast as my hands started to wander around her body. She kissed me, but it wasn ’ t long before a new image started materialising in front of me. In that moment, I believed I was kissing India, not some blond bird with skinny legs. Every time I was inside someone else, she controlled my mind, wrecking my body.
    India was my curse; she ’ d tainted me, pushed me into the darkness, ruined my life. And now when I wanted to fuck someone else, my head was so screwed up that I felt useless.
    I found her soft spot and start massaging it, wondering if I could carry on. She started moaning, panting and telling me that she wanted me to carry on. I needed that release. Nothing was making much sense otherwise. Alcohol made me numb and fuzzy as her name fucked with my head. When she was close to coming, I withdrew my fingers and pushed her on top of me. It was that easy.
    My cock kept pulsing, and my heart pounded as I thought of those disastrous images. It looked like I was never going to get rid of her. India was part of my life and I just had to wait until she came to Braxton. Until then, I had to somehow forget.  

Chapter Eleven
    My ego.

    Present

    I walk into the house thinking about those crazy days. That plan was my obsession back then. I knew that she would show up one day and my suffering was going to be over. Now I wonder why I was such an idiot. All these months fucking around, rather than trying to deal with my emotions.
    I put the boxes from the garage in my room. Jacob can help me when he gets home later or tomorrow. The car is going to stay in the street for now until I decide what to do with it. Knowing what that bastard did to India, I don ’ t want her to see it. This car could bring bad memories, lots of shitty crap.
      I need to sleep these shitty memories off, but I need to pour alcohol into me, a lot of it if I ’ m going to close my eyes tonight at all. When I get downstairs I spot the mail, and my heart skips a beat when I spot a letter that came for me. It ’ s from her; I recognise her handwriting. My shallow breaths barely give me enough oxygen not to suffocate myself.
    After instructing my muscles to keep moving, I grab the envelope and hurry upstairs to my room, shutting the door louder than I should. The adrenaline starts pumping through my body as I run my hand over the paper. It ’ s better to get it over with and just open the damn thing, so I do. Inside I find my own letter with my own envelope. India is a clever monster, but I know that she opened it. The edges are torn, plus the paper looks like someone read it more than once.
    What the fuck is this supposed to mean? Has she read it and obviously decided that it ’ s not good enough?  
    For a split second I ’ m eager to just go to her house and ask her if she still hates me, but after a moment I push that thought away.
    I change my mind about getting drunk. Whatever I do, nothing is going to ease my guilt and frustration, so I make myself busy. I go back downstairs and get back to the car to deal with the rest of the boxes. There is a lot of stuff we brought back from my mother ’ s home, so I start unpacking everything. After a moment Jhonny arrives and offers to give me a hand. He might be a stoner, but he is useful sometimes.
    Okay, I can ’ t stop fucking