I open the door before he can stop me and find another room filled with paintings. I step inside and look around.
The photographs speak for themselves-I’ve found what I was searching for. I’ve found Racheal.
The girl is absolutely stunning, and I feel bad just looking at her. She’s tall, with dark brown hair, aqua-blue eyes, and a body that’s impossible not to envy. Her long legs, small waist, and curves make her look… perfect.
Alex has hundreds of photos of her, and my blood starts to boil.
She’s gorgeous, and it’s clear from these pictures how much Alex adored her.
Some of the images break my heart-Alex and Racheal together at bars, parties, dinners, beaches, cities. The jealousy burns inside me.
“Racheal,” I murmur with a faint smile. I glance at Alex, who’s standing with his arms crossed. “You were really in love with her,” I laugh nervously. He sighs.
I keep looking around and notice stored items: panties, bras, sexy outfits, pictures of her in underwear, and even… a pregnancy test?
“It’s not what you think,” Alex says quickly. I feel a lump forming in my throat.
“Who is Racheal?” I ask, trying to push the pregnancy test out of my mind. I sit on the floor in the middle of the room.
Alex sighs and sits down next to me.
“I met her when I was 20, and she was 17,” he whispers. I glance at him. “I met her in a bar where she was fighting with her boyfriend. He was yelling at her, and I hate seeing guys act like that, so I stepped in.”
He pauses, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips. “We fought, and her boyfriend ended up hurt. At the time, I was in great shape and pretty strong. At first, she told me I was an idiot for hurting him.”
He laughs softly, looking down. “I didn’t see her again for about a month. Then, I ran into her at the hospital. I was recovering from alcohol poisoning, and she was there because her boyfriend had pushed her into a wall, knocking her unconscious.”
I notice his body tense, and I can’t help but feel bad for him.
“She broke up with him after that. This time, she thanked me for helping her. I invited her to breakfast, and… the rest just happened,” he shrugs, avoiding my gaze. “We dated for two years. I felt addicted to her. I couldn’t stand being without her.”
My heart aches as I listen. “What happened?” I ask quietly.
“She was violent,” Alex says bluntly, annoyance flickering in his eyes. “If I missed her calls, she’d show up at my office, screaming. If she thought I was with someone, she’d lose it and break things. Once, a drunk girl tried to kiss me at a bar, and Racheal hit her like you wouldn’t believe.”
His voice becomes colder, detached. “Sometimes, she’d hit me too. But I always found a way to calm her down. She said I was her medicine.”
I glance at the photos around the room. “She doesn’t look violent in these pictures,” I say.
“Most of them were taken before the parties, before we got drunk, high, or started fighting,” he explains with a shrug.
“High?” I ask, confused.
“Racheal was addicted to alcohol, tobacco, marijuana, and cocaine when I met her,” Alex begins. “Our first two months were simple-parks, dinners, ice cream. But the first party she invited me to, I realized how much she drank and smoked. At first, I didn’t say anything. Everyone drinks and smokes, right?” He shrugs again.
“But when I saw her smoking marijuana, I was in shock. She offered me some, but I refused. She seemed so relaxed, though, and for the first time, we didn’t fight over anything. It relaxed me too, so I stayed quiet about it.”
I notice how tense he’s become. His hands run through his hair and across his thighs, a clear sign of his nerves.
“When I saw how it calmed her, I eventually wanted to try it too. I liked it. I felt far from the real world, like it was just me and her. Cocaine was the same-it made her more… passionate. So I thought, if it felt good for her, why not me?”
“Did you have a lot of sex?” I ask hesitantly. He nods.
“After every date, every fight, every party, every trip-anywhere, anytime,” he admits with a bitter laugh. “Sometimes, we’d be so high we’d do it on couches in the middle of parties. We didn’t care.”
“Did you think you were expecting a baby?” I ask, glancing at the pregnancy test.
Alex laughs, shaking his head. “That was a prank Racheal and Elijah played on me. It was April Fool’s Day, and they convinced me she was pregnant. I panicked. She cried, yelled, and blamed me for hours. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. Eventually, I apologized, and we hugged. That’s when Elijah and Racheal’s friends burst in, throwing diapers and shouting ‘Happy April Fool’s Day!’ It was all a joke.”
“Did your friends like Racheal?” I ask.
“They adored her,” Alex says, nodding. “They said she was just like us.”
I sit in silence, trying to process everything he told me.
“I think I want to go home,” I mumble, standing up.
Alex notices me playing with the bracelet he gave me and frowns.
“We can’t leave yet,” he says firmly. “You haven’t seen everything.”
“I’ve seen enough and also tired of everything,” I whisper.
Alex shakes his head. “You still have questions-”
“It doesn’t matter anymore, Alex,” I interrupt, tears threatening to spill. “I just want to go.”
I leave the room, trying to hold myself together.
I feel Alex’s hand on my waist and his lips brush my shoulder.
“There’s one more room,” he whispers, his voice heavy with emotion. “It’s the most important one.”
I bite my lower lip, feeling the pressure in my chest grow.