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It can’t survive a two story drop onto a pillow, much less concrete.
It doesn’t happen in slow motion. Rather, he releases it and the box shatters almost immediately in front of me, the tiny little pink-velvet lined drawer ricocheting off the concrete across the lawn, landing next to my foot. The music dies softly in the air as the tiny ballerina sits in the mechanism, now broken and free from the box. She spins one last time, with no music, and stops. The lid with the adorable gold latch is separated from the box, and rests in a puddle of sprinkler run-off. The main box, which held a few gold necklaces and a ring from a former boyfriend, is completely split in two. The gentle velvet and tulle that once lined the inside is now torn, exposing the wood core of the old box.
He relishes every ounce of pain etched on my face, laughs and then turns on his heel, slamming the apartment door shut behind him.
With tears stinging my cheeks and snot bubbling at the end of my nose, I suck in a breath and wipe my face with the back of my hand. Moving quickly, I collect all the broken pieces and stuff them into the bag. I make my way to my car, parked at the back of the complex, and get inside.
As soon as my keys are in the ignition, my phone rings.
I know it’s him without looking at the screen. I answer the call, out of habit I guess.
“Where are you going?” he asks, his voice rattling. “You have nowhere to go without me, Scarlett. Quit being a dramatic, selfish little bitch and get back here. You forced me to make a huge mess last night because you don’t listen. You need to get back here and clean upyourfucking mess.”
“No,” I say, my chin suddenly bobbing.
He laughs, as if I’m an actual idiot for no longer letting his narcissistic gaslighting control me. “Where are you going to go, Scarlett? Hmm? You gonna live in your car?”
“No,” I say again, and though I know I shouldn’t answer him—I should leave him to wonder, and let that wondering make him fester and stew and grow miserable and achy at all the unknowns. But I don’t. I want a little win. I deserve a win, no matter how small damnit, so I spread salt in the wound. Which is a stupid move, but I deserve to inflict misery on him. “I have an apartment. Believe it or not, Pete,I’m able to exist without you.”
He snorts, the sound vile and disgusting. Every noise he makes turns my stomach, boils my blood, wears me down. I should have done this last year but it doesn’t matter. I’ve done it now. I’ve left. And he can’t get me back.
This time is different. I have an apartment. I have a new job. The exit strategy is no longer just a strategy, it’s a plan I’ve set in motion. I’ve actually done it this time.
“Keep telling yourself that. But you’ll see very quickly, Scarlett, that I was the one keeping you paid. Keeping you fed. Keeping you at the top. Without me, you’ll realize you’re nothing more than a useless, washed-upwhore.”
His words shouldn’t cut me like they do… Maybe he’s right?
No! He’s fucking not. “I’d rather be a whore than youranything,” I hiss, my pulse hammering in my throat, my anger palpable at this point.
“Where the fuck are you living?” he asks again, this time unable to temper his rage, unable to keep up the facade of control. “Tell me, Scarlett!”
I end the call, and wipe my cheeks again. I have more makeup on my hands and the collar of my shirt than my face. With the car in drive, I head to my new job, where I’m expected on set in less than an hour.
Windows down, I use the fresh air to my advantage, letting it dry my cheeks and refresh my face. The whipping breeze swirling through the cab helps me collect myself. I don’t want to show up to my still kinda new job looking like I just had a massive fight with my toxic ex. I don’t wantanyoneat Crave & Cure to know how messy my past is.
All I want is a clean slate. A vast road stretching ahead with endless possibilities. No looking back. No bringing the past with me.
By the time I arrive, my cheeks have completely dried and the pink flush has drained from my cheeks. I grab the sandals in the passenger seat—I’d been barefoot before in an effort to persuade the apartment manager that I’d just locked myself out—and slide them on. Standing next to my car, I pull on my hoodie and look down at myself. I wasn’t able to get many clothes out last night, just what I had on. So as of now, I own a pair of yoga pants, a tank top and a hoodie.
Looks like I’ll be shopping online tonight after filming is through.
With the stress of the last fourteen hours weighing on me like a ton of fucking bricks, I hold my head high as I pass through the back security door at Crave, lifting a palm to the cameras. With a soft smile, I duck into the building, my eyes taking a moment to adjust to the muted lighting.
“Hey, Lucy!” A bubbly, sweet voice reaches through the darkness, and I look up to see Vienna smiling at me, her hands stuffed in her overall pockets. She wrinkles her nose as she smiles, her glasses slipping down her nose a little.
“Hey, Vienna,” I reply with a smile I wish I felt. Vienna is about to start casting me for a line of for-men sex toys. Pocket pussies. We’ll be working closely together and already have been a little. I adore her. She’s so sweet and genuine.
But I’m empty, and there isn’t even a molecule of energy to scrape out and serve up to my new colleagues. They are the people who deserve my focus and kindness, and yet here I am, showing up with the bare minimum to give.
I hate myself for it.
“Gotta go change,” I tell her as I motion down the hall toward the dressing rooms.
“Oh, of course! Have a good scene today!” And with that, she nods, waves me goodbye and is off to the craft services table to talk to Maxi. She calls all of the actresses and actors by their stage names, even me, despite the fact I’ve urged her to call me Scarlett.
Quietly, I pad down the hall and slide into my dressing room. We’re on an afternoon shoot today, so not many actors are still here. Confident that no one will be looking for me, I lock the door.
I sink into the chair in front of the large mirror and catch my reflection; blonde hair tangled in a knotted heap on top of my head, darkness pooling beneath my weary eyes, my lips cracked and dry.
