Page 100
Story: Lessons Learned
The first three drawers prove to be fruitless, but I notice the items have been refolded from the last time I went through the drawer. The second drawer from the top, the sock drawer, looks like it was done by a professional. Each pair perfectly matched and in rows, also by color like the hanging clothes in his closest.
Feeling like a brat, I dig my hands in deep and start swirling them around. He may be extra rough tonight if he finds this before bed, and my body hums with the promise of more bruises.
Then my fingers brush over something hard.
I tell myself not to get too excited. I did that two weeks ago and ended up pulling out an old zippo lighter.
I turn the sock upside down, knowing how weird it is for something to actually be inside of it, but I wouldn’t put it past Angel to do shit like that just to give me hope, only for it to crash to the ground. He’s an expert in all things painful to me and delivers often.
The tarnished locket falls into my hand.
The world fucking stops spinning as I look down at the costume jewelry. I blink as if the thing will disappear, but it doesn’t.
It’s here, what I’ve been searching for this entire time.
I could leave, but then I remind myself that I can’t leave. This is only half of what I’m looking for. Taking a chance, I fist the necklace and pull open the very top drawer. It’s not even hidden. Right there on top is Liana’s diary, the string that keeps it closed unwound.
He read her words.
I mean, I suspected he did.
I don’t know a single person who wouldn’t have it in their possession and not at least peek, but it feels like the ultimate betrayal.
Not because he knows in explicit details what she went through, but because he knows what kind of sick disgusting family I come from.
How am I still here with him knowing the truth?
How is he not disgusted with me?
I don’t bother pulling the diary from the drawer, just like I don’t bother closing the top two drawers before letting the necklace slide from my hand. It lands on the top. Because of Angel’s nonexistent decorating skills, it’s the only thing sitting there as I take two steps back, my eyes locked on what I considered the two most important things in my life.
This is part of his game.
The promises, the joy, the pain I love so much, has all just been a way to make me let my guard down, and fuck if it hasn’t worked.
Just like with the hidden combination to his safe, he wanted me to find this.
I haven’t mentioned these things by name at all, and only mentioned them in the abstract once when I came back. He knows I’m looking for them, knows I’ll stick around until I find them. To find them so easily means another goodbye, just like when he cut me loose before.
My heart races as my hands sweep my lower belly.
Did he find out? Is he disgusted with what we created?
My hands tremble as I make my way to the front door, fear washing over me for still being here.
I took my time looking this time, certain I’d never find them.
I have no idea what will happen if he catches me here when he returns. My walking papers were as clear as day, sitting right on top in that drawer. If he wanted to, he could’ve made it harder. If he didn’t want me gone, he could’ve destroyed the fucking things, or locked them in his safe.
He wanted this.
Tears sting my eyes, and it pisses me off. I’ve spent so much time trying not to feel settled, to not watch his every move, trying to catch him lying to me.
He said I was a smart girl for confessing I’ll never fully trust him. He flat out fucking said it was a bad idea, that he was untrustworthy, but his actions over the last several weeks didn’t make me suspicious.
I grab the jacket I’ve worn more than once when I stand on the porch, and shove my arms into the sleeves. I reach for a pair of boots that will be way too big for me just as I see the headlights coming up the long driveway.
Heartache freezes me right on the spot. I want to confront him, to confess how bad he’s hurt me, but I won’t give him the satisfaction. As he drives nearer, I decide to face him calmly, to tell him this is over, and I’d appreciate a ride into town so I can catch a bus out of state.
Feeling like a brat, I dig my hands in deep and start swirling them around. He may be extra rough tonight if he finds this before bed, and my body hums with the promise of more bruises.
Then my fingers brush over something hard.
I tell myself not to get too excited. I did that two weeks ago and ended up pulling out an old zippo lighter.
I turn the sock upside down, knowing how weird it is for something to actually be inside of it, but I wouldn’t put it past Angel to do shit like that just to give me hope, only for it to crash to the ground. He’s an expert in all things painful to me and delivers often.
The tarnished locket falls into my hand.
The world fucking stops spinning as I look down at the costume jewelry. I blink as if the thing will disappear, but it doesn’t.
It’s here, what I’ve been searching for this entire time.
I could leave, but then I remind myself that I can’t leave. This is only half of what I’m looking for. Taking a chance, I fist the necklace and pull open the very top drawer. It’s not even hidden. Right there on top is Liana’s diary, the string that keeps it closed unwound.
He read her words.
I mean, I suspected he did.
I don’t know a single person who wouldn’t have it in their possession and not at least peek, but it feels like the ultimate betrayal.
Not because he knows in explicit details what she went through, but because he knows what kind of sick disgusting family I come from.
How am I still here with him knowing the truth?
How is he not disgusted with me?
I don’t bother pulling the diary from the drawer, just like I don’t bother closing the top two drawers before letting the necklace slide from my hand. It lands on the top. Because of Angel’s nonexistent decorating skills, it’s the only thing sitting there as I take two steps back, my eyes locked on what I considered the two most important things in my life.
This is part of his game.
The promises, the joy, the pain I love so much, has all just been a way to make me let my guard down, and fuck if it hasn’t worked.
Just like with the hidden combination to his safe, he wanted me to find this.
I haven’t mentioned these things by name at all, and only mentioned them in the abstract once when I came back. He knows I’m looking for them, knows I’ll stick around until I find them. To find them so easily means another goodbye, just like when he cut me loose before.
My heart races as my hands sweep my lower belly.
Did he find out? Is he disgusted with what we created?
My hands tremble as I make my way to the front door, fear washing over me for still being here.
I took my time looking this time, certain I’d never find them.
I have no idea what will happen if he catches me here when he returns. My walking papers were as clear as day, sitting right on top in that drawer. If he wanted to, he could’ve made it harder. If he didn’t want me gone, he could’ve destroyed the fucking things, or locked them in his safe.
He wanted this.
Tears sting my eyes, and it pisses me off. I’ve spent so much time trying not to feel settled, to not watch his every move, trying to catch him lying to me.
He said I was a smart girl for confessing I’ll never fully trust him. He flat out fucking said it was a bad idea, that he was untrustworthy, but his actions over the last several weeks didn’t make me suspicious.
I grab the jacket I’ve worn more than once when I stand on the porch, and shove my arms into the sleeves. I reach for a pair of boots that will be way too big for me just as I see the headlights coming up the long driveway.
Heartache freezes me right on the spot. I want to confront him, to confess how bad he’s hurt me, but I won’t give him the satisfaction. As he drives nearer, I decide to face him calmly, to tell him this is over, and I’d appreciate a ride into town so I can catch a bus out of state.
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