15. Chapter 15 #2
My brain settled on the emotion of nervousness twisting knots in my stomach.
I shook my head in refusal. “…I can assure you I don’t.”
Evan rolled his eyes. Green eyes that were a younger mirror of his father’s. But unlike Summoner’s there was no kindness to be found, just radiating anger that he struggled to keep in check.
“I don’t know what this is, but it stops here. Dad is not your ticket to a new life. It’s a plan everyone’s seen a million times before. You found Dad and sunk your claws into him. You’re not different. You’re not special.”
I squirmed. These accusations painted me with the dirtiest brush. It was a damn nasty feeling.
“Whatever he told you, whatever you think you’re getting, you’re not. This game you’re playing ends here.”
“Game? This isn’t a game. You don’t know—”
Evan held up a hand, effectively halting my effort at defending myself.
“I don’t want to hear your sob story. It’s bullshit.
It always is. Whatever you’re trying to do, I see through it, and this is the end of it.
I am the keeper of dad’s legacy. At the end of the day, I will be the one who makes sure that he lives on through his music. ” He jabbed a finger at his chest.
Thinking through my Summoner history, I recalled Evan made an attempt at a music career in the late 90s.
He had a few mid singles before being dropped by his record label.
Regulated to an executive role in the industry under the shadow of his dad’s storied career and the ashes of his own musical dreams had to burn.
But under his glare, I couldn’t muster up any sympathy.
“My Dad’s not something to be used by trash like you. Like I said before, you’re not special. In the grand scheme of things, you are nothing and no one and I want that made very clear.”
Say something! Say anything!
As it had always done, my voice abandoned me in my time of need. I couldn’t speak. Even if I wanted to, what could I say? I couldn’t convince a man with an already made-up mind.
My fingertips curled around the fabric of my leggings.
Evan stared me down with a power that frightened me, yet I couldn’t look away.
We weren’t matching wits. He had the upper hand.
He was being a dutiful son protecting his father from gutter trash like me.
To him, I was a user. A dirty whore worth nothing more than the mud on his expensive shoes.
He knew nothing about me, but with a glance, he summed me up.
Nothing. To everyone, people who knew me, people who didn’t, I was nothing.
Evan swore under his breath and pressed his fists against his thighs.
His knuckles pinked. I stared at the beast across from me.
Its fierce snarl left no doubt about its intentions.
His hardened scales, terrifying glare, and incinerating words were the last line of defense for his father.
The dragon, Evan, was the one to firmly put me in my place.
A place far beneath his family, far beneath Summoner.
“This ends now. You’re not welcome here anymore. I’ll have my lawyer send you an NDA. You can expect it on Monday. Now, I’ll walk you out.”
He went to stand, but I shook my head. That much I could do. I wasn’t going to cause a scene.
As I stood up, my world tilted. A violent jolt I forced myself through with a steadying deep breath through my nose. I was able to walk to the front door without incident. As I pushed my feet into my shoes, I noticed my cheeks were wet. I ignored it.
I closed the front door quietly behind me and rushed to the elevator.
As the doors closed, my chest caved in from the weight of my sadness.
I couldn’t fight back the ear-piercing sobs that escaped my mouth.
A river of tears flowed down my face. Evan’s judgment didn’t hurt as much as how right he was about me.
He looked at me and saw everything. Without any effort, he was able to strip me bare.
In a cloud of my sadness, I managed a silent cry the entire way home. I closed the front door behind me, greeted by the emptiness of my studio. I dropped my coat, tossed aside my forgotten bra and collapsed on the hardwood floor. The old, uneven planks pressed against my cheek as I wept.
Nothing.
I am nothing.
A part of me saw this coming, but I ignored it.
I hated paying lip service to my depression.
It was a darkness that always hung over my shoulder, no matter how bright the day was.
A blot I could always make out on the edge of my vision.
Something I had to force myself not to notice, even as it grew.
It had been growing for weeks now. Bigger and darker. And now, I couldn’t see beyond it.
I am nothing.
No one likes you.
No one cares about you.
Nothing.
Poppy is nothing.
My chest shook as a foreign shriek filled my ears.
The anguish was me. Snot tangled with my tears to pool in a mess across my face and on the floor.
My life was an exercise in pitting people against me.
By being born, I killed my own mother. My birth created my first enemy, my father.
My friends laughed at me. In moments when they thought I didn’t hear, they picked on me.
My life was on the fast track to nowhere with a useless degree and a dead-end job.
They had cast me out of the life of the man who I had been in awe of since I was a teenager.
Nothing.
You are nothing.
A scream escaped my raw throat. A sharp pain filled my head. I clutched my forehead. I was making myself sick, but I couldn’t stop crying. I squeezed my eyes shut. Drool bubbled over my lips.
Nothing.
You are nothing.
You will always be nothing.
I made no attempt to move as my stomach rolled.
In the middle of my tears, I retched violently.
Bile-stained chunks of goldfish crackers and the stale ghost of Red Bull covered my chin and chest. Even covered in vomit, I couldn’t manage to move from the floor.
Like so much in my life, I resigned myself to deserve this.
I am the lowest of the low.
I am nothing.