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I can’t read his tone. The tone of the very first words he’s spoken to me all night. Is it condescending? Insulting?
Is it disbelief?
Whatever it is. I’m going to tell him the truth.
I nod. “Stupidly.”
“Stupidly,” he agrees.
“And I’m done proving that.”
I step back and take in the open mouths of all his minions. Sighing, I put my hands on my waist.
Then, I smile.
“Ashley, thanks for the re-introductions.” I bend down and take off my Mary Janes, one at a time. “But it was totally not needed. I remember who you are. I remember all of you. You’re the people who’ll never amount to anything. You never did back at St. Patrick’s and you don’t now. Oh, and I also call you minions of the anti-Christ, in my head. Anti-Christ being Zach.”
I address Samantha and wave at my boobs. “So these… are called boobs. It’s hard to know what they are when you don’t have them yourself.” I unbutton the top two buttons as I keep talking. “But I’m sure if you ask your daddy nicely, he’ll buy you a pair.”
To Rob, Chase and Alex, I say, “Stop being pervs and stop hitting on the maids. Guys like you grow old to be the kind of creepy middle-aged men who force me to use the itching powder. You don’t want me to use the itching powder on you, do you?”
They stare at me wide-eyed.
Finally, I turn to Zach.
Looking him in the eyes, I unbraid my hair. Slowly, methodically. With every knot that comes out, I feel like I can breathe again.
Once I’m done letting my hair loose, I give it a shake and throw him a tight smile. “I quit. Oh, and,” I turn to a shocked Ashley. “the way you’re rubbing onto Zach’s arm? That’s not going to work. He likes his girls curvier with bigger tits. You know, someone like me.”
With that, I spin around and leave the ballroom, barefoot, with my long blue hair swinging against my back.
When I reach the exit, I spy a lonely glass of champagne and throw it back.
I might be a little bit in shock because I don’t feel an ounce of regret. No regrets. Not one.
I’m not going to get my house back, and well, I don’t want it. It’s not going to bring back my parents and I have to cut ties some time.
I have to go find… life.
As I walk down the hallway, I decide that I’m going to take that road trip. I swear to God. No more excuses.
So what if no one knows my name out there? So what if I’m alone? I have myself and I have my blue car.
I’m walking down the hallway and I pass by a room when I hear a crash – not the kind of violent crash I heard back in Zach’s room last night but still. It’s a crack, I think. Because it’s followed by a whimper.
I come to a halt and creep toward the door. I’m surprised to find it open when I turn the knob. For some reason, I feel like whatever’s going on in there is something that happens behind locked doors.
And I’m right.
I open the door and stick my head in to see the supposedly happy couple whose love is being celebrated back there.
Mr. and Mrs. Prince.
There’s a huge difference between their heights and right now, it shows in the most dangerous way. Mr. Prince is towering over her smaller, thinner frame and his hand is wrapped around the same wrist Zach was asking about yesterday.
He says something to her, but in a low voice that even I can’t hear, and when she replies something haltingly, he gives it to her.
Oh my God.
