“Yeah, karma is a bitch they say.” Not sure what he means with that. Did he cheat and now feel the burn of his actions? I think I’m going to throw up.
We stare at each other. My love for him displayed openly in my eyes. Together with my fears. So deep. So raw.
So desirously.
His eyes swim with emotion as he clenches and unclenches his jaw as if trying to find the right words. “The least you could do is offer me a drink … or sex …” Still observing me looking for that something.
“Look mister, you’re all sweaty so you’re gonna take a shower while I make some coffee. I think you had your quota of alcoholic beverages during your trip.” I jump from the counter and put on the coffeemaker. I’m not going to have sex with him until I know what’s bothering him. Or if he cheated or not. No matter how much I want to.
“Just so you know, you are the reason for all that,” he sounds dejected again. Me? How did I make him drink? And act out?
“Okay, got it, now get going.” I push him to start moving and he just rolls his eyes. He takes his phone from his pocket and places it on the table.
“We need to talk,” he mumbles walking away. I would say. And we’ll start with why you’re acting out and who answered your phone. And I’m not forgetting Chloe and the bathroom break.
“Whose jacket is this?” he comes back holding a dark-blue hoodie with the Paws and Claws logo on it. Alejandro must have forgotten to take it when he left.
“Oh, Alejandro dropped me off and helped with the fireplace.” He throws the jacket at me with eyes that could kill the devil.
“Fucking shit.” He’s truly pissed.
He walks away without saying a word. Maybe he doesn’t like people to touch his fireplace. Or it can be because of D-boy … I don’t think he likes him much.
I pour some coffee into a cup, and add milk, before jumping to sit on the counter again, waiting patiently for Damion to finish. I smile, dreaming about the wonderful night I’ve planned for us. But I still have this feeling that something is very wrong. I hope we can sort it out quickly so he can scratch my little itch … down there.
I take a sip from my cup.
“Yuck.” My face automatically scrunches up. The coffee tastes really bad … maybe the milk expired. I pour the cup down the drain and take out fresh milk. I switch on one of the burners and place a full kettle on the grate to cook. I crave something sweet – so hot chocolate it is.
I want to go and see what’s keeping Damion, but I don’t want to be dragged into his bed right now. I have the whole night planned, so I start walking up and down the kitchen impatiently. His phone pings and without thinking, or maybe because of boredom, I pick it up and look at the screen.
It’s a WhatsApp from Chloe. I frown, immediately feeling frustrated and extremely jealous. I know curiosity killed the cat, but I just can’t help it, so I open it.
“Fuck!” The phone drops to the ground. Frozen, my heart halts, and breaks right open – the hurt and crushing devastation cause me to fall to my knees. I clutch my hands to my chest, trying to stop the suffering, but it doesn’t help.
I slowly pick up the phone and stare at the photo again.
A naked Chloe is smiling seductively at me, her one hand behind her head, the other covering her pubic area. Nothing is covering her double-Ds though. Even her nipples look smug. They’re big and darker than my pink perky ones.
I struggle to breathe. I try to drag in some air but my lungs do not seem to work.
I scroll up, looking at all the previous messages, going along the same line – how much she misses him, how cold her bed is without him, each photo could be the centerfold of a porn magazine.
Then I read the most devastating one … ‘I’ll be at your penthouse in 10. Order some champagne and strawberries.’ and then there are photos of the ‘view’ from said penthouse (it’s a lovely view by the way) and the champagne and strawberries. I look at the date – it’s the night she answered the phone. The night she told me he was in the bathroom.
After that a message saying ‘Last night was amazing.’ Time stops.
The world spins beneath me and around me, but I can’t move. I stare at the photo she displayed on her status and tears burn in my throat and sting my eyes. I don’t fight them back.
Damion is sleeping, naked by the looks of it, and there right next to him is Chloe – her full bosom barely contained in a sexy black lacy bra.
I shake my head in disgust at him. At her.
It’s as if I’m in a bad dream, my mind can’t focus and I drop the phone on the floor. I sit there in disbelief, my chest heaving, my teeth clenched, as a violent sob ribs through my broken body.
The kettle whistles loudly.
Time starts again. I draw in a breath and thoughts start to form. I need to get away. To escape from this pain. Somehow I get up, grab my bag, rush through the door, and run down the road – one bare foot at a time.
Anger blazes in my veins. Emptiness is depicted in my soul. Pain erupts in my heart.
I was afraid the walls would eventually come crumbling down – although I really hoped they wouldn’t. But I never expected the whole freaking building to collapse on top of me all at once. Crushing me, leaving me struggling for breath. My chest hurts as if somebody ripped my heart solidly from my body while it was still beating.
HONK! HONK!
I stop walking and look with hazed teary eyes at the lights, not even registering what exactly I’m looking at.
Pain courses through me like a wild inferno, radiating from me in waves. I clench my fists and squeeze my eyes shut.
“Are you crazy or something?” a man shouts.
“Girl, are you okay? You’re bleeding. Can I phone someone to come and fetch you?” The man grabs my arm and I slowly open my eyes. I blink a few times, trying to focus my watery orbs. Then I fall down onto my knees, my hands gripping my shirt at my chest. The gentleman is speaking to me but it’s as if his voice is an unrecognizable wave of sound traveling through the air and my brain can’t register anything he says.
I feel the hands clasping around my shoulders, picking me up, like a double-dead zombie he helps me into the car. I sit in silence, feeling dead inside, waiting for my suffering heart to give in and let me go into the far beyond. I don’t want to live anymore, not like this. Lights move past outside the window. I start to shake. I’m so cold.
“Hold on,” the man says, “I’m taking you to the hospital.”
Can doctors fix broken hearts? A sob robustly escapes, unbearably excruciatingly painful, from so deep within me that I wrap my arms around my torso to try and smother its effects.
“Bring a stretcher!” someone shouts close to my ear and then hands pick me up and put me on a bed. I close my eyes. I said I’ll fight for us until the end … said I’ll trust him … but how can I after seeing that evidence?
At least now I know why he acted out. And even if I can get myself to forgive him this time … with him there will always be another.
This is the end, I’m done fighting. Right now I’m dying … painfully. No heart can endure this much pain and survive.
“Can you tell me your name?” someone asks, but I just stare. Do you need your name to get into hell? I don’t think so. I’m already there.
“Look in her purse for identification,” the same voice says and then a new voice reads, “Melaena Blackburn, age 19.”