Claimed by Luciano

1. Fallon

Fallon

“Dirty, rotten bastard, tiny-shrimp-dicked, cheating motherfucker!”

Taking a swing, the heavy, metal baseball bat I bought at a downtown Seattle sports store smashes into the headlight of the shiny black SUV belonging to my now-ex. The clear plastic splits into pieces, and I watch it bounce onto the dark asphalt before I hit it again.

“This will teach you to fuck with me,” I grit out before I slam the bat into the chrome grille, denting it on impact. “Your perfect Range Rover isn’t so perfect now, is it, asshole?”

For all I know, he fucked her in the back of this stupid SUV.

Then again, Joshua wouldn’t do anything like that because it might tarnish his precious car.

Or ruin his delicate reputation. He didn’t think about that, though, when he decided to bend his secretary over his desk after-hours.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that my crappy car broke down a block away from his office, which made me show up unexpectedly, who knows when I would’ve found out.

I tried calling him on my way, but he didn’t answer.

That wasn’t unusual, though. Joshua is a busy lawyer.

I just had no idea that he’d be busy having sex with another woman tonight.

And the fact that she cried out that she loved him while he was fucking her told me this wasn’t the first time it had happened.

Honestly, I’m not sure how I was able to get away from his office and down the hall without either of them noticing. I covered my mouth to keep quiet until I was able to make it out of the lobby.

I don’t remember walking twelve blocks until I came upon a Seattle Mariners store and saw the shiny baseball bat in the window. Even better that it’s Joshua’s favorite team. The kid who rang me up stared at me like he thought I was crazy while I paid for it with shaking hands.

“Big fan, huh?” he asked when my card was approved for the absurd amount.

I let out something that sounded like half-laughter and half-manic cackling as I swiped the bat off the counter.

“Suddenly a huge fan,” I tossed back before I spun around and strode out of the store.

The twelve-block walk toward Joshua’s office building was as much of a blur as storming away from it was.

By the time I got to the enormous private parking garage where Joshua parks his car, rain had started falling from the dark sky.

I didn’t hesitate as I stomped up to Joshua’s pristine Range Rover and started swinging. And damn, it feels good.

“Fuck you, and fuck your tiny dick. I hope you get crabs,” I shout as I smash another dent into the side.

Moving around the SUV, I swing at each window until the only one left intact is the windshield.

“What the fuck is wrong with you and every man in this fucking world?” I scream and bash the side of the car again. “I hate you!”

I’m starting to understand why rage rooms are so popular. This is extremely therapeutic.

Why is it that every man I’ve ever met has disappointed me in one way or another?

I shouldn’t be surprised. But this betrayal is the final nail in the coffin.

Joshua knew when we got together that I was wary of a relationship.

I’d already been hurt by so many men. And he promised he wasn’t like that.

I really thought he was different. And now, I’m the one who looks like a total idiot for trusting him.

“Just once,” I say breathlessly as I swing the bat over my shoulder and survey the damage I’ve done. “I’d like to meet one goddamn man who shows me they’re not all the same.”

I survey my artwork, a spike of adrenaline running through me. It looks great, in my opinion. Joshua is going to have a heart attack when he walks out here. Hopefully.

I’m not done yet, though. Not even close.

This piece of shit is going to regret the day he met me.