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“Be careful,” Grey said to me and walked away without looking back at me.
“Grey, wait,” I called, but he didn’t stop.
I thought of going to file a report against him but changed my mind. I stared at Grey as he walked down the hallway and disappeared into a room. He was the last person I’d expected to come to my rescue.
I held my tears and made my way to the exit. Morris was surprised when I called him. He didn’t ask me anything during the ride to Tristan’s place, and I appreciated that.
I cried throughout the ride. Morris kept glancing at me through the rearview mirror. He gave me a white handkerchief. We walked in silence into the house, and I could tell Morris wanted to ask me something from the way he kept opening his mouth and closing it.
“Can I have a bottle of vodka and a knife?” I asked.
“A knife?” His eyebrows rose.
“Yes.” He hesitated for a while before going to the wine cellar.
I waited impatiently at the dining room. I was frustrated I couldn’t live a normal life again and scared of what people now said behind my back.
Morris brought everything I’d asked for, but he looked reluctant as he gave it to me.
“Don’t worry about me,” I said with a weak smile.
Tristan needed to feel my rage, the pain, and everything that had come with his lies, but how much damage did I have to do to make him feel those emotions? He deserved worse.
“Where is Tristan’s room?” I asked, gripping the knife tightly.
He was quiet, not willing to tell me. I furrowed my eyebrows at him, urging him to answer.
“The room to your left.”
“Thanks.” I sniffed, heading for the stairs.
CHAPTER11
ALCOHOL
Iwalked into Tristan’s pitch-black room. I searched for the light switch and turned it on. His room lacked color. The gray painted walls looked dull to me. I’d read on the internet that the color of your room matched your mood. It was spacious and had a good view of the yard from the floor-to-ceiling glass wall. I could hear the birds chirping outside. I imagined they were rooting for me.
I searched for his closet and found it next to the bathroom. It was a huge walk-in closet that could fit a hundred people. I walked in with a malicious grin on my face. They said actions spoke louder than words.
I brought out my phone—the one I’d told Tristan I would give to charity, but I’d kept it for myself. I guessed he had seen me using it and refused to fix my old phone. I blasted “IDGAF” by Dua Lipa and stretched my arms. His clothes were neatly arranged, ranging from different colors, brands, and styles.
I ran the tip of the knife through the walls as I walked around the large room, as if I were marking my territory. This was going to take a long time. I held the knife in my hand and thought of where to start—his suits.
I sang along to the lyrics as I ran the knife through his crisp shirt. I danced and took shots from the bottle of vodka as I let out my anger on his clothes. I cursed when a few drops of the alcohol spilled on my shirt.
I ripped his clothes with the knife. Not all of them because I got tired. I slumped on the floor in the walk-in closet and sobbed. I could still feel Ralph’s hands on me. I could still hear Erin and Claire’s voices in my head.
After a while, I wiped my tears away and stood up. If there were an easy way to rip out Tristan’s heart, I would have done it. I could use this knife and slice his heart into tiny pieces, spice it, cook it, and give it to his family as a gift.
I stripped and grabbed one neatly folded sweatshirt. I tossed my stained shirt to the floor and put on the sweatshirt. I was tempted to inhale his intoxicating scent. The red sweatshirt was comfy. I walked out of the closet with the bottle of vodka. I sat down on the floor and leaned on the wall.
I opened the drink and took big gulps. Grabbing my phone, I browsed YouTube. The video was still trending, and it seemed to be the latest gossip. I braced myself and went through the comments. I needed to drown my sorrows. There were over ten thousand comments.
I had been called a whore, a big disappointment to my family, a greedy bitch, and some insults I hadn’t even known existed. I was surprised to see some people hyping me up and telling me to go get the money and ignore the haters.
I took more gulps and laughed at some of the comments. They were so stupid. Had these people had any breast milk when they were little?
“Chloe!” I heard Adrian scream my name as the door rattled open.
