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Rumor
I heard the screams well before we reached the hallway. A sick knot formed in my stomach, and I felt bile rise up in my throat. I couldn’t keep walking. Not that way. Not in that direction.
“Fuck,” Sebastian muttered under his breath, hearing the female cries of pleasure and pain that were coming from the tack room.
I shook my head, backing up as a wall of bricks sat heavily on my chest. Just when I’d thought I couldn’t be hurt anymore, when I’d believed the agony couldn’t get any worse, I was slapped in the face with yet another truth.
“I can’t,” I rasped. It hurt to speak. My throat was constricted.
“I’m sorry, Rumor. I’m so fucking sorry,” Sebastian said as his hand closed over mine. “We’ll go another way. Come with me.”
Unable to do anything else, I let him lead me back out the door and around the buildings until we reached a door on the far side of the main structure. How much abuse could a heart take before it stopped? Shattered? Was that possible?
I much preferred broken ribs. Those I could heal from. Those I understood. This…I was afraid this had ruined me. Completely. How could I ever recover? I couldn’t even hate him. I wanted to. I wanted to hate him for all he’d done. For making me love him. For letting me believe he cared. But I couldn’t. I knew what hate was. I had hated Hill. I had wished he were dead. If King were dead, I wouldn’t be able to survive it. Even after all this.
Sebastian kept my hand in his as he led me up a set of stairs I hadn’t been on before, then down the hallway I was familiar with to King’s bedroom.
He opened the door, then turned to me. “Do you want my help, or do you want to be alone?”
“Alone,” I replied. I needed one last moment to grieve what I’d never truly had before I left it forever.
He squeezed my hand before letting it go. “I understand. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
I only nodded. I didn’t want to say more. It was too difficult. Stepping inside, I left the door open. Not wanting to be closed in here. I stood for a moment and took in the bed, the dresser, the sofa, all the memories that I’d thought were special and I now knew they were a lie. All of it.
Wincing, I took in a deep breath as I walked over and opened the closet to get out my suitcase. I would survive this. I would. I had to. Life was about survival. I’d learned that at an early age. I was surviving yet again. I was beginning to accept that there would never be a day that I wasn’t just surviving. Getting through. There wasn’t going to be happiness in my future. I’d been born with a curse on my head. That had to be it. I hadn’t been given any real breaks in this life. The moments that I had believed were my breaks in the past were always facades. Cruel, manipulative lies that I’d wanted to be real so badly that I walked right into them.
Never again.
Laying my suitcase on the bed, I went to get my clothes. The ones that were mine alone. I didn’t want to take any memories with me from here. Not bothering to fold them, I shoved everything inside, then went to the bathroom to get my few toiletries and makeup bag. This was reminiscent of the many times I had packed up and had to leave a home as a child. Except I had a suitcase now. Back then, I had always been given a trash bag and told to put my stuff in it.
Just as I was placing my last item in the suitcase, heavy footsteps caught my attention, and I spun around to see King stalking into the room with a wild expression in his eyes. He was shirtless, and his body was damp with sweat. From having rough sex in the tack room.
A wave of nausea rolled over me as my chest twisted inside. I turned away from him, unable to see him, especially like that. Knowing he’d been busy fucking another woman while I was told that he had been lying to me. I’d been a job for him. Not his friend. Not…not anything.
“You’re not leaving!” he said in a fierce tone. Then, he was behind me, grabbing my arm and spinning me around.
Stunned, I glared up at him. Was he kidding me right now? He had destroyed me, and now, he was here to cause a scene. Act as if he cared where I went. He pulled me to him, and I shivered, not wanting to touch his body. The sweat he had from being with another woman.
“DON’T TOUCH ME!” I shouted, pushing at his chest and trying to back away from him.
“Rumor,” he said gently, as if he was trying to calm me. He couldn’t calm me. Not now. Not after all this. “Baby, listen to me.”
“BABY?!” I spit at him. “YOU DO NOT get to call me that.” I let out a sob as the emotion inside of me began to unravel.
“He told you,” he said as if he hadn’t realized I had been at a meeting, being clued in on his deceit.
“Yes, he did. While you were…were in the tack room.” I couldn’t say more. I was going to be sick, thinking about it. “Please go away. Let me finish.”
“Rumor, listen to me. What you heard in the tack room wasn’t what you think.” His tone was pleading. Almost desperate.
I found myself caving, wanting to turn back to him. Listen. What was wrong with me? Why was I so weak?
“Were you whipping a female?” I bit out, staring at my open suitcase.
“Yes. But it isn’t—”
“Were you punishing her, or was she enjoying it?” I would not let him lie to me.
