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“You deserved it after what you did, not only to me, but everyone you hurt. I read the articles about you taking people’s investments and running with the money.”
“So, you became his whore, is that it?”
I shake my head. “You are out of line, we are nothing anymore.”
“Don’t tell me you love him?”
“What I do and who I love is none of your business. I’m free from everything.”
“You sure? Where is your savior now? Where is he?” he screams. My eyes flash to my bag I dropped by the door. Anticipating my move, he reaches for it the same moment I do. He pushes me back, dumping the contents on the floor. Makeup and art supplies fall to the concrete, together with my phone. I try to pick it up, but he holds me back and slams the phone against the wall, shattering the screen and throwing it across the room.
I try to reach for it, but he hits me hard across the face, and I stumble backwards and trip over one of the open boxes, hitting my head against the wooden side. The wind gets knocked out of my lungs, and I struggle to breathe.
He grabs my wrist and drags me back. “Let me go,” I yell, and punch him in the face.
“Let you go like he did to me? I’m ruined,” he roars, kicking me hard against my stomach. Pain shoots through every nerve ending of my body as I topple over, clutching my belly.
“Fuck you,” I croak, falling into a fetal position on the floor. He doesn’t do anything while I struggle to breathe, but opens a bag I didn’t notice he brought with him. “I’m going to burn you to the ground like he did to me,” he screams while I roll over on the floor, kicking off my high heels and stabbing the heel in his foot. He shouts in pain and kicks me in the stomach again. Holy shit, that hurts.
Pain shoots through my body, the son of a bitch cracked a couple of ribs, I think, and the wheezing sound leaving my throat scares me. “He’ll find me,” I say, my voice breaking as tears stream down my face, while it gets more difficult to breathe. Summer isn’t coming after me. I’ve hurt him too much. And in the process, I also hurt myself. And I know when I look into Jason’s eyes, he’s going to burn this place down with me still in it.
While he’s busy pouring some sort of gasoline over my paintings, I try to crawl to the door. Pain shoots through my chest. Holy fuck, I’m dizzy and I’m having trouble focusing. I’m seeing double and it’s gets harder and harder for me to breathe. It feels like I’m drifting, like not enough oxygen is flooding to my brain. I get up, stumbling to the floor, and another crack echoes through my ears as he kicks me again. I cough, still trying to get to the door.
“You think I’d make it easy for you to escape?” Jason asks, while I punch him again and he screeches in pain.
“Please,” I breathe, trying to focus on him crawling toward me. He grabs me by the hair and holds a lighter in front of my face. “I’m going to burn you to the ground,” he threatens.
“Do it,” I spit in his face. He pulls his head back and raises his hand to slap me. I close my eyes, ready for the blow which doesn’t come.
Summer
I’ve been pacing by the car for five minutes, debating if I should go back inside the gallery, I turned around at the first light and headed straight back to her. Fact is, she’s the one, and I’ve been miserable ever since I let Storm walk out my door. I run both hands over my face and lock eyes with Han, who’s smoking next to the car.
“She hates me,” I tell him.
He chuckles, “She doesn’t hate you, she might not like you at the moment but we all saw the way she looked at you during that dinner.”
“What do you mean?” I frown.
He flicks his cigarette away and shakes his head. “I know there is something wrong upstairs,” he says tapping his temple, and I ball my fists. He’s right though, I’m crazy, but I’m also crazy about her and I can’t imagine a life without Storm in it.
“I fucked up Han, she’s never going to love me, not after what I did. I mean I kidnapped her, and then I screwed her over and cut her out of my life after the month was up,” I mumble, barely able to look at him. We both glance up when someone honks his horn and I let out a string of swearwords. Chris parks his sports car next to mine and gets out.
“You called him too?” I groan, shaking Chris’s hand.
“Have you apologized already?” he asks, and Han grins while I roll my eyes. “What are you waiting for? You’ve been dragging your feet around the company, getting on everyone’s nerves with your out-of-control temper,” he states.
“I haven’t been moping,” I mutter, but they both raise their eyebrows at me. “Okay, maybe I was, but I have no idea how to apologize and ask her to stay.”
“You could try and be nice for a change,” Chris says, winking at me.
Han goes in for the kill, “I do think you shouldn’t tell Storm you stalked her from the moment you let her go though, just to be sure,” he deadpans, and they start to laugh.
I flip them off. “I needed to know she was safe.”
“Sure, whatever makes you sleep at night.” Han grabs me by the shoulders and starts to shake me, “I’m pleading with you, no we’re all begging you, to go in there and get on your knees and ask her to take you back.”
“You think begging will work?” I ask, running a hand through my hair and staring at her paintings through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the art space. “I’ve never told anyone I love them before,” I confess, because I do, she has every part of my broken heart.
