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SLOANE
Sloane
As I numbly stared at the feast before me, I listened to the echoes of Alexie’s retreating footsteps, his barking orders to Roman still lingering in the air.
The heavy atmosphere created by his condemnation made it hard to breathe.
My chest squeezed tight. A panic attack was imminent.
Fuck!Why couldn’t he just let me go?
His words haunted my brain, and in doing so, propelled me into adulting. As an expectant mother, I didn’t have the luxury to give into my depression and starve myself.
Though I wasn’t hungry, I forced myself to take a couple bites, if only for the baby. He or she shouldn’t have to suffer just because we the parents were so fucked up.
I managed to swallow my chewed food, but nearly choked each time.
I just couldn’t.
Emotionally exhausted, I gave up and decided to go to bed. With a heavy heart, I left behind the beautiful wedding feast. It was such a waste. I hoped the staff would get to enjoy it at least.
The house was still beautifully decorated. I sighed. Apparently, ruining celebratory events like this was my MO. Isn’t that what happened on my 18thbirthday? It’s like “marry” was a trigger word that immediately sent me into a self-destructive spiral. You’d think I would have learned my lesson the first time around. I must have a death wish.
Like, I would rather die than say “I do”.
Apparently, I’d prefer to go down in a blaze of careless defiance and snarky comebacks than simply play nice with the powerful men around me until I could find a safer way out. My instinct for self-preservation seemingly vanished when presented with a shiny ring.
Now Alexie had stormed off in a fit of rage, and I was too scared to go back to our shared room. It wasn’t even his anger I feared. It was the possibility that everything he said was true. I didn’t know if I could face it.
I aimlessly wandered the candlelit halls like a gothic heroine haunting the mansion, pining for her long, lost lover.
So dramatic, I know.
When I lifted my head, I found myself in the library. It was my favorite room.
I stared into the fireplace, feeling heartbroken. What if this was the last straw? What if Alexie was done with me?
I shouldn’t give a fuck…
“But I do,” I whispered to no one.
His love may be insane, but it was still love.
“Why do you always fight us?”he’d asked.
With the flair of an old Hollywood star, I threw myself onto the couch and sobbed into the cushions, wishing I could go back and just talk to him rather than shutting down. I should have just begged him to talk it out with me. For all his psychotic behaviors, he was actually a good listener, and easy conversationalist.
“Fuck me,” I whispered.
I should leave and never return. Any normal woman would. If I had a lick of sanity left, I would leave all this behind, take advantage of the fact that no one was seemingly watching me and walk away.
Leave.
This town.
My tormentors.
Alexie.
