Tempting BAD: VIP Spin Off (51 page)

I raged with fury.

I went from feeling nothing. Years, decades, of solitude and no emotion. An endless stream of no hurt, no pain, and emptiness. The barricade that became my heart, where I never allowed anyone to enter, or allowed myself to leave, it was a ticking time bomb that waited; exploded.

It was loud, disastrous, and chaotic.

It was going to take everything around me with it, like a tornado spinning around in circles; no one stood a chance, especially me. It elicited feelings I never thought would be possible, emotions that one should never have to experience.

The loss of one’s heart is the demise of their soul.

There I was standing at the burial of my own funeral, laying dirt along the coffin with everyone else. They were burying me alive. I felt every loss of breath, and it cluttered my mind for my will to keep going; to push through. I couldn’t keep up with the agony, and it clasped onto me like a fucking vice. Taking me deeper under the ground, where there was no one, but… me.

Alone.

I didn’t want to be alone, it terrified me. It made me feel frail, when all I wanted was to feel strength. There was nothing left of me. He took it with him when he stepped out of the bathroom, and out of my life for good. There would be no coming back from him; from this. He broke me in ways that I never imagined possible, when he was the one who put me back together in the first place.

Life is cruel like that.

It makes a mockery of who you think you are, and the second you let your guard down, and let someone in… it had you. You’re one of those victims to love. It consumed you until you’re nothing but half the person you started off being. 

What happens if you were half a person to begin with?

I knew the answer.

Devon.

He completed me.

We were both halves, who made each other whole.

I hated him…

That’s a lie.

I hated myself.

I crept up off the floor, as my skin made me itch, my mind made me burn, and my reflection in the mirror made me sick. I looked at the disaster displayed before me, mascara ran all down my face, my lips were swollen, and my eyes were red; burning bright with my pain.

My misery.

The exact same one I created. I was my own worst fucking nightmare.

Now I would be Devon’s, too.

It was then that I heard the moaning, groaning, the sounds of pure impassioned fucking, coming from the living room. The precise place that I had just ran from. I darted from my life, seeking refuge, and it crumbled right in front of my very own eyes. All through the motions of the man I loved. The man I love. Every time I shut my eyes, I could still see his handsome lifeless face.

See… I killed him, too.

My hand caught my mouth, and I hurled my head over to the toilet. I heaved over and over again.

Getting rid of the drugs.

The alcohol.

The shame and regret.

It effortlessly soared out of me, as easily as it did going in.

I spit out the rest of it, and wiped my lips with the back of my hand. I rinsed my mouth out with water. I zealously shook my head, side-to-side, trying to get rid of the sounds and the images of Devon.

His hands.

His mouth.

His words.

They were forever severed in my soul. It was now a piece of me that I would never be able to detach myself from. It made itself a home, right next to the hollow hole that used to be my heart. I looked down at the ground, and saw our love splattered on the tile. I subconsciously stepped back, not wanting to step in it any longer. The echoes from the living room bounced off the walls, and it made me cover my ears. I closed my eyes, but it only made it worse.

I screamed out my frustration, unleashing the rage, the wrath I no longer had any control over. It pounded into me as furiously as Devon did minutes ago. I opened the door, and slowly walked toward the living room. No one had stopped what they were doing, as I was dying on the bathroom floor.

No one cared.

No one listened.

No one helped me

No one stopped.

Nothing.

I took one last look around the room. “Get. The. Fuck. Out!” I shouted, and everyone froze in place, staring at me with wide eyes that resembled my own.

Deer in headlights.

Bambi.

When they didn’t move, my hands went to the table in front of me, and I swiftly cleared all the contents to the floor. The sounds of glass crashing onto the hardwood floor, was mocking me… my heart shattering the exact same way.

It was everywhere and all around me.

I couldn’t run.

I couldn’t escape.

I couldn’t hide.

“GET THE FUCK OUT! NOW!” I screamed bloody murder, and that’s when they moved. They gathered like a herd, grabbing clothes, and whatever else. I didn’t stop, I kept moving because I knew once I did I would crash, and possibly not ever get up.

I scurried around the condo, my feet stomping everywhere I stepped, and leaving a path of destruction in its wake. Throwing pictures, vases; I went after anything I could find, my eyes blurred with nothing but tears, and my body twisted with the desire to fall apart.

“I fucking hate you! I fucking hate you so much!” I yelled, talking to myself. I repeated it over and over to let it sink into my pores, and make it become a part of me.

“Miss Stevens,” I heard someone say. I immediately stopped, dismayed, looking where the voice came from.

The guard’s hands were in the air in front of him, cautious. “Are you okay? You’re trashing the condo, and your guests flew out of here like a bat out of hell.”

“Why did you let him up here? He wasn’t invited! He shouldn’t have been up here! Do you know what you did? What happened? Why did you let him up here?” I asked again, trying to keep calm, even though all I wanted to do was scream, and take out all my frustrations on him.

“Miss Stevens, you know I would never do that. I got approval when I didn’t see his name on the list,” he explained.

I lowered my eyebrows and cocked my head to the side. “Approval?”

He nodded. “Of course, I would never let anyone up here without approval first.”

“Who the fuck gave you approval, Raul?” I questioned, waiting on pins and needles for him to reply, although I already knew the answer.

“Madam,” he stated, repeating the exact same name that just went through my mind.

My hand instantly went to my mouth, as I held in the bile. “Oh my God,” I whispered.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Stevens. I didn’t know. I told her his name, and she instructed me to let him up. I was going with what she approved. I had no idea,” he reasoned.

I shook my head. “Leave.”

“Miss Stevens…” he coaxed.

“Please… leave.”

He worryingly nodded. “I’ll be in the lobby if you need anything.”

I turned around and faced the window. My mind trying to catch up with what was reeling of my feelings. I couldn’t process it fast enough.

Party.

Clients.

Drugs.

Alcohol.

Lust.

Desire.

Primal.

Fucking.

Orgasms.

Devon.

Breaking.

Bathroom.

More fucking.

Shattered.

Betrayal.

Sorrow.

Self-loathe.

Broken.

Numb.

Before I knew it, my key was unlocking the iron glass doors to their house, stepping inside the cool, tranquil, air. It breezed against my skin, and made a false illusion of peace and serenity. I looked around the rooms, as I made my way into the kitchen, all the memories, every last one of them.

The good.

The bad.

The ugly.

I stopped when I saw her. She looked so beautiful in the dim lighting, as she stared off into nothing. Twirling the diamond on her ring finger, around and around it went, precisely as my relationship with Devon.

And her marriage with my father.

Her gaze caught mine. They locked together from across the room, unable to look away from one another.

“Brooke,” she spoke surprised.

“Mom,” I replied, knowingly.

“Why?” I asked, not wasting any time.

She shook her head, confused.

“Don’t give me that. Why? Answer me! I deserve to know.”

Her eyes intensified in recognition, and she sat up.

I put my hand out in front of me. “No. Tell me,” I ordered.

She stood in place with one hand over her heart, and the other sternly placed on the breakfast table, supporting her weight. I sensed that her composure was buckling though she portrayed otherwise.

“Fucking tell me!” I yelled clear across the room.

She jolted. “Brooke… I’m so sor—”

“No… you don’t get to say that to me! You don’t get to pretend to feel remorse. You can’t stop this with apologizes or excuses. Tell me the truth! Tell me!” I winced from the impact of my abrasiveness.

“I love him,” she simply stated.

My eyes instantly watered. “So… that makes it okay, that makes it alright what he does to you? The fact that his dick can’t stay in his pants. How can you let him do this to you?”

Her eyes watered, too.

“Do you have any idea what you have done to me? Do you even fucking care? You knew! You know! You’ve always known that I knew the truth. But you didn’t care; you didn’t say anything to me. Why? Why would you do that to me?” I bellowed, the tears sliding down my face making it hard to breathe or to see.

She bit her cheek and took in a deep breath. “I was ashamed.”

I sucked in air, winded by her short, yet detailed answer. I disgustingly shook my head. “You have no idea what you’ve done to my life! It was so much easier for you to ignore me, and keep pretending that your marriage is nothing, but a fucking lie!” I brutally shouted.

Tears ran down her face. She didn’t wipe any away as if she was wearing them proudly. “That’s where you’re wrong. Our marriage is not a scam, Brooklyn. I love your father, and he loves me,” she justified, but it meant nothing.

Nothing ever would again.

I stunningly chuckled, surprised by my reaction as well. “Are you fucking kidding me? Where is he? Huh? Where is Daddy? Is he with Charlotte? Or with VIP?”

She didn’t answer, and that’s when I knew she didn’t know either.

“This is so fucked up. He uses you! He uses you because you let him! You’re nothing to him! Do you understand me? NOTHING! You want to know how I know? Because I’m him, Mom! You’re looking right at him when you look at me. AND that’s why you couldn’t tell me because you fucking knew it. So you pretended to live in the fake fairytale you’ve created in your mind.” I wrapped my arms around my body, suddenly feeling cold and alone.

“You hide. You hide just like me,” I consciously added. “You want to know the truth? You want to know what I have become? What you made me become?” I threatened, wanting to inflict pain. The same aching I was feeling.

“That’s fucking enough,” I heard him roar from behind me. I closed my eyes, and waited for the storm to wash over me. I was sitting in the eye of it, awaiting the mass destruction that would wreak havoc on my being. It would take me right along with it, and I would let it.