Chapter 1 #2
The moment I step outside, another incredulous laugh leaves my lips when I’m hit with the downpour happening above me. “Of fucking course! Just my goddamn luck!” I shout up at the sky, flapping my arms at my sides.
Stomping down the few steps and over to my car, I nearly slip on ice thanks to the cold November weather we’ve been having mixed with the rain.
I grip my door handle just in time before falling on my ass, then rip it open and hurry inside.
I’m already soaking wet, my favorite pair of heels is more than likely ruined, and I probably look like a fucking nutcase right now.
Just fucking great!
My tires screech against the asphalt as I speed down the road, going over the limit and passing through red lights and stop signs. I know my driving right now is reckless, but clearly, I’ve lost my mind if that wasn’t obvious yet.
I can’t fucking believe him! After two fucking years. Two fucking years of me doing everything for him, and this, THIS is how he pays me back!? And how fucking dare he act like I’m the issue, like I’m in the wrong for showing up at his work!? He’s the one cheating on me, not the other way around!
God, I feel like such an idiot! I freaking knew it.
I freaking knew those lipstick stains weren’t mine!
And now everyone knows about his traitorous ass!
What the hell am I talking about? They probably all knew already; that’s why Odette seemed nervous seeing me.
She fucking knew he was in there with that bitch Miley and didn’t fucking say shit.
God, if I find out my father knew this entire time as well, I might commit murder!
“UGH!!!” I scream, pressing my foot on the gas once more as I reach our house and run over the front lawn, not bothering to park correctly. “FUCK YOU AND YOUR GRASS, DIPSHIT!”
I rip my seatbelt off and whip my door open, then slam it shut as I stomp over to the front of the house. Quickly unlocking it, I send the entrance door flying into the wall, not caring if it left a dent or not, then run up the stairs to our bedroom.
I grab all the luggage and bags I can find from the closet, then throw everything of mine into them carelessly. My drenched strands from the heavy rain outside whip constantly in my face, but I don’t take the time to push them away. I’m too angry to care about anything right now.
I just need to get out of here.
Once I’m done with most of my clothes and shoes, I rush to the bathroom, stuffing all my products in a bag. Then I run down the stairs to the living room to collect all the photo frames of my friends and family from the walls.
Dropping the two bags that I already have with me by the entrance door, I sprint back up the stairs and collect the five suitcases and three duffel bags. I let them slide down the stairs one after the other, saving me from the exhaustion and multiple trips back and forth.
I don’t know why I’m rushing. Tommy won’t be back for another five hours. But if I stay here any longer, I’ll suffocate. And if I wait for him to get back and explain himself, I know he’ll just manipulate me into thinking it was my fault.
That he was unfaithful because of me.
It takes me three trips to my car to get everything in, or at least most of it.
I know I probably still have a few things that I’m forgetting, but those can wait until I have shit figured out.
How I managed to fit all of that in my Mercedes-Benz GLC Coupe?
I have no idea. But I owe the company a big thank you.
I walk around the house one last time, making sure I have everything important with me as I wipe my trembling, frozen wet hands down the sides of my coat. When nothing catches my eye, I turn around, ready to head back out, but the sight of the kitchen has me immediately stopping.
I hurry over to it when I realize I was about to forget something important, something I could never forgive myself for if left here. My most prized possession.
I rip open the top cabinet door by the fridge that holds all the coffee mugs, and there on the second shelf sits what I'm looking for.
My special mug. It isn't the most appealing-looking mug, big and tall with a bumpy surface.
The whole thing is painted a shitty brown with a huge yellow 3D sunflower in the middle on one side.
It's pretty cheesy, but it holds great value in my heart, with very few people knowing why.
I grab two cloth napkins from one of the drawers and wrap them around my mug, then hold it tightly to my chest. I still remember the first time Tommy saw it after I moved in with him.
He called me childish for caring so much about something so ridiculous and forbade me from using it when he was around.
The asshole even tried to throw it away once when he realized I was still using it when he wasn’t home.
The rage that had slightly simmered during my rush to pack my things quickly reignites and boils rapidly through my veins. I set my wrapped-up mug down on the console table by the entrance, then stomp back to the kitchen cabinet.
“You think I’m childish, scumbag?” I say out loud, letting out a deranged laugh. “You haven’t seen shit.”
Taking mug after mug from the shelves, I throw each one across the room, watching as they explode against the wall and shatter into a million pieces. I move on to the cups, plates, and bowls and even grab the trays of silverware and empty them on the kitchen floor.
I run to the living room next, picking up the picture frames I’ve left behind of us clearly pretending to be the happy and in love couple, then smash them against the TV.
With force I didn’t know I had, I let out a warrior cry and flip one of the armchairs over, then rush to the next and do the same.
I’m panting as I look around the destruction I’ve caused, then turn to the now blank wall that no longer has any frames along it. I smirk as one final idea pops into my mind and sprint up to the second floor, back into the closet where I left a single pair of heels.
Those atrocious crocodile stilettos Tommy bought me for my birthday back in March. The ones I pretended to love but quickly stuffed in the back of the closet, praying he’d forget all about them and never force me to wear them.
I pick them up with the tip of my fingers, a disgusted expression taking over my features as I look them over.
They’re green with a crocodile pattern all over and far pointier than any heel should be at both ends, almost making them look like shoes fit for a witch.
I honestly have no idea why he ever thought I’d like them.
Clearly, he knew nothing about me even after two years.
Carrying them back down to the living room, I push the couch back against the wall with a few huffs, then climb onto it. Dropping one of the shoes down, I hold the other in my grasp, heel pointed toward the empty wall with a wicked smile on my lips.
“I would normally never mistreat any of you like this,” I say, glancing at the heel. “But you truly are hideous.” Then I smack the pointy heel through the drywall.
I continue digging holes along the wall, spelling out every letter with precision until I reach the punctuation. A nice big exclamation point, and leave the heel hanging out of the little dot at the end. I jump off the couch and take a few steps back to overlook my masterpiece with a smile.
On the originally simple and empty-looking beige wall, the words “YOU’RE A LOUSY FUCK!” now reside, giving it a whole new look that I very much agree with.
I wipe the sweat from my forehead and nod with satisfaction, then pick up the single shoe still on the couch and turn for the TV, slamming the second heel into the center of the screen and leaving it hanging there as well. There. Now it’s perfect.
I walk over to the door, picking up my mug, then step out and shut the door behind me. I debate leaving the door unlocked, not caring if a thief comes by and robs the place, but then think better of it.
Quickly digging my keys out of my pocket, I take the house key off the ring holding it, then shove it into the keyhole and lock the door. But rather than pulling it back out, I set my mug carefully down on the frozen grass and step back from the door.
Lifting my foot high, I thrust my heel into the door handle, aiming for the key with every kick.
They’re already ruined, so might as well give them one last moment to shine.
It takes several attempts, and I consider giving up at some point, but finally, the end of the key hanging out snaps off and falls to the ground.
Laughing like a crazy woman, I jump up and down on the spot, overly proud of myself. I pass my fingers through my hair, pushing it out on my face before picking up the broken half of the key from the ground.
“Have fun trying to get in, asshole!” I shout, then give the house two middle fingers before picking up my mug and heading back to my car. If he thinks I’m going to sit at home, waiting for him with a nice dinner, he has another thing coming!
Once behind the wheel, I speed off the front lawn and get the hell away from this place. Away from this life forever.
I look up in the rearview mirror a few times, watching the place I’ve called home for the last two years get smaller and smaller the more distance I put between us until it leaves my line of sight. The place that no longer feels like home.
Despite my wealthy upbringing, I loved it here. A cute little two-story suburban house that Tommy owned and asked me to move into after a few months of dating. I loved the life I thought we had. I was happy. We were happy. Or so I thought.
I thought he was different than all the rest. It’s why I gave him a chance.
He was so persistent, such a charmer. He practically harassed me for weeks, asking for another date, and then another, and another, and another.
Until finally I caved into the connection I thought we had, and I let him sweep me off my feet.
But it turns out, he was just a snake in disguise. Just like the rest of them.
I drive forward with no set destination in mind.
What the hell do I do now? It's not like I still have my condo to go back to since I sold it after moving in with Tommy.
I'm definitely not going back to my parents.
There's only so much shame and embarrassment a person can take in one day.
And moving back in with my parents at twenty-seven years old is more than embarrassing.
Hell, I don't even have a job anymore because Tommy said it was the reason our relationship was struggling. That with our hours combined, we never got to see each other and spend quality time together. Yet nothing changed when I quit the job I loved.
I know I could always go stay with Cecilia. She's my best friend, and she would never turn me down. But she has a family now, a husband and a ten-month-old baby. Me showing up in their peaceful home with all my baggage would be entirely selfish.
Plus, we haven't talked in almost four months because I've been a horrible friend who let a stupid cheating asshole come between us. When all she was trying to do was help me see what was right in front of me all along.
There's also Morgan and Aubrey, but Morgan is also married. And last I heard, Aubrey is still living with her brother, Greyson. I haven't talked to any of them, either. The truth is, I've been pretty much radio silent with everyone except my parents.
God! What have I done!?
I had a great life, a great job, and incredible friends. Now I've lost it all because I was too wrapped up in Tommy. Because I let him convince me that they were the reason we were always fighting. That they were filling my head with lies and negative thoughts that weren't true.
When in reality, every single one of them was right.
I’m such an idiot!
“Fuck!” I curse myself when tears begin to stream down my cheeks as I think back to every fucking sign and warning I chose to ignore. I wipe furiously at my eyes that won’t stop welling up as I drive through the pouring rain. Seems fitting given the disastrous turn my life just took.
I park my car along the side of a quiet road and pull out my phone, quickly searching up the nearest hotel.
The first one that comes up isn’t my ideal place to stay, but it’s only a ten-minute drive away, and it will do for the night.
Tomorrow I can find somewhere nicer until I figure out my next step.
A new message from my father pops up on my screen, asking me if I’m okay and to call him.
Apparently, he’s called me five times and left me several text messages between the moment I left the law firm and ransacked Tommy’s place.
I swipe his message away, not wanting to deal with anyone right now, and quickly make a reservation at the hotel.
When all is done, I pull away from the curb and make my way to my destination for the rest of the day and night.
I quickly look myself over in the visor once I’m in the parking lot and growl.
I look like absolute shit! My makeup is all smudged from the rain and crying despite me fighting back my emotions, my hair looks like it just took a spin in the dryer, and my eyes are red.
God, I really do look like a lunatic right now.
I quickly grab my sunglasses from the car, even though there's no sun out and it’s still pouring, then place them on my face and step out with only one of the duffle bags.
I’m not even sure what exactly it contains, but I’ll have to find something to wear inside of it.
There’s no way I’m bringing up all these suitcases.
I make my way inside while trying to tame my hair slightly, then check in and take the elevator up to my room. It’s small, looks a bit dirty, and doesn’t really smell great, but whatever. This will do. As long as it gives me a place to hide out for a few hours, that’s all I care about.
Tossing the duffle bag on the floor, I kick off my heels and throw my sunglasses onto the bed, then quickly shed off my coat that is once again dripping with rainwater. It’s only then that I remember the ensemble I have on beneath it and scream out with frustration.
But despite the rage coursing through my blood, the heartache quickly creeps in, and I finally let the tears fall freely. Then I crawl onto the bed, beneath the covers, and curl into a ball before crying myself to sleep.