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Amazingly sharp and never used by the look of them.
With my phone running low on power, I leave it on the counter, ignoring the five hundred messages and panicked calls that bombarded me all the way here. Then I drag my bag into the luxe bathroom.
I try to avoid my own reflection as I slide the scissors down my bodice and snip away.
The noise feels cathartic, in a way, like shedding an unwanted skin.
Chop, chop, chop.
I keep going, methodically slicing through lace and silk, shredding the torture instrument wound around my chest like a snake.
Finally, it’s off, piling in ribbons of white fabric by my feet.
Now I’m just standing in the fancy lingerie my mom bought for my wedding night—which is weird, by the way—and I’m only t-minus three seconds from crying. It has absolutely nothing to do with how stupid and useless I think garter belts are.
Sighing, I rip the lingerie away and twist the shower on. Steamy water blasts out instantly, filling the room with a soothing heat.
Just in time.
My chest heaves as I step under the spray, and for the first time, I let my feelings bleed.
Ugly sobbing.
Honking.
Blubbering like a baby.
Look, it’s not that I’m sad about trashing my sham of an engagement.
The whole thing was a joke from the beginning, and I’m glad to be rid of it. Plus, my ring finger feels lighter without that hulking diamond on it.Win.
It’s not even the way I shamed myself forever in front of everyone I know. If I ever live this down, I’ll know for sure there’s a benevolent God.
No, the thing that’s demolishing my heart right now is the fact that I’ve just lost mylife.
The whole package.
If I’d just had the courage to say no, to walk away sooner, I wouldn’t be here, ugly crying in a strange place that’s beyond my budget.
I wouldn’t be a runaway with no one left to turn to.
I wouldn’t bealone.
Sighing roughly, I close my eyes and tip my face up to the hot spray, pinching my lips together. At least the water feels good, washing away the sweat and panic, obscuring so many bad memories with its sensory overload.
One itty-bitty step toward un-fucking my life, maybe.
Not that I’m about to erase this mess with one nice shower.
Eventually, I know I’ll have to face the music, but that’s a tomorrow problem.
Tonight, I just want to forget.
To feel like a human being again, and not a sweaty heartbroken slob with a corset in ruins.
I take my sweet time in the shower. There’s this high-end body wash that smells like fresh vanilla and citrus, courtesy of the host.
I still use the shampoo and conditioner I brought. I’ve got special stuff to handle the curls, because no matter how fancy the products are here, they won’t know how to tame my hair.