Page 10 of The Pursuit of Happiness (Satan’s Angels #2)

I reach the top of the circular staircase and to my bedroom.

My house is not your usual type of house.

Its gothic and Victorian style were designed specifically for me by an interior designer I hired.

I’ve always been a fan of the darker things in life, starting and ending with horror movies.

I enter my room which is full of memorabilia from my favorite horror movies.

There’s a huge mural on the wall of Ghostface from Scream and I have shelves of collectors items from Child’s Play , Halloween , Coraline , and a bunch of other iconic horror staples.

Horror movies give me a rush that only my guitar has been able to give me.

As I walk through my bedroom and to the ensuite bathroom, I pass posters from my favorite movies that hang on the walls and relish in the familiarity of my own home after so much uncertainty.

When I make it to the bathroom, I immediately turn the shower on and start stripping out of my clothes.

I feel like I smell like regret and bad decisions, a horrible combination.

I catch sight of myself in the mirror and immediately make a disgusted sound when I take in my smeared makeup and dark circles.

I look like a final girl in one of my favorite movies and usually, the idea of being a fearless heroine that survives the serial killer would appeal to me, but right now it is not offering me much consolation.

While I wait for the water to heat up I impulsively check my phone as if I don’t already know what I’m going to find.

The very small and naive part of me hopes that I won’t find hate and ridicule about myself on social media and that all of my problems will have gone away, but the logical and realistic side of me knows that won’t be the case.

Still, I can’t help but peek to see if things have gotten even slightly better.

I’ll take whatever I can get right now even if it’s just one comment in my favor.

I open Instagram and still, all over my feed is my naked, censored body underneath Slater’s.

The worst part is that I can’t even deny that it’s me because not only is my face in clear view, but my tattoos are as well.

As if the situation could not get any more humiliating, this picture is new.

Well, new to me. It’s a screen capture of my face mid-orgasm.

I immediately want to throw up and bile rises in the back of my throat as my gut twists and churns.

I must clearly want to make things worse for myself as I open the comments section and begin reading against my better judgment:

XOXOKISSES222: She’s so slutty it’s embarrassing

SATANSANGELSFAN: She has no self respect. Truly disgusting

ILOVEbrODYDRAKE: If I were the other girls, I would kick her out

ThunderstrikeForever: Slater’s dick is huge, holy shit!

Riley_XXX: Wow. She’s so irrelevant she probably orchestrated this whole thing to get relevant again. What a loser

JamesReynolds02: WHORE!!!!!!!!!

SLATERNICKSFAN: Props to him for fucking her like that

MacyLooooo: She definitely set this whole thing up. Nasty slut

I reread the hateful comments about myself over and over until tears well in my eyes and humiliation takes over.

I can’t recover from this. This just destroyed my entire reputation as an artist and also as a woman.

They’re bashing me and slut-shaming me because I made a mistake and didn’t know that mistake was being recorded, but they’re patting Slater on the back for fucking me senseless and because he has a nice dick? How is that fair?

I know the answer is that it isn’t fair.

It’s part of being a woman and I hate this part.

It’s the typical double standard of all things sexual in any way.

If a woman does anything the least bit promiscuous or sexual in any way, she’s a disgusting whore who should be shunned by society, but if a man does the exact same thing, he gets a pat on the back and a thumbs up. I absolutely hate that.

What I hate just as much as the fact that this will be associated with my name for the rest of my life.

The entire world has heard about this and as Dallas and Harvey have their team working to remove it, more and more people are spreading it around.

It’s probably gotten all the way to Russia by now.

I’m sure my absentee father has seen it and is just beaming with pride. Not .

I feel so ashamed, humiliated, and overall disgusted.

The emotions are all so overwhelming and too much to bear.

The most powerful emotion I’m feeling is anger.

I’m angry that Slater would do this to me for a fucking award.

No matter how badly I’ve wanted this award, I would never do this to someone just to tip the scale in my favor.

Angry tears start to stream down my cheeks and my vision blurs.

I taste the saltiness of my tears on my lips and start to sob.

The words of the people in the comments, the photos, the videos, Slater’s face, all of it.

All of it swirls around in my mind like a broken record, reminding me over and over again that my life is ruined forever.

I snap, launching my phone across the room and at the tiled wall.

I watch as the screen shatters into pieces that fall to the tiled floor, scattering around the entire room as I break with it.

The broken shards sparkle in the light and I squeeze my eyes shut, too disgusted to even look at them as I remember what was just illuminated on the screen only seconds ago.

I cover my face with my hands and sob until my body starts to shake and I feel like I can’t breathe.

My entire career was just destroyed because of one fucking mistake. Because of Slater Nicks and all for a stupid award. I was foolish for ever believing that he didn’t have malicious intent and I’ll live to regret my misjudgment of his true intentions for the rest of my careerless life.

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NUMB. THAT’S HOW I feel after learning that my blood tested positive for Milizopam and MDMA (Ecstasy).

I’ve taken Ecstasy recreationally before and never have I ever experienced what I went through last night.

I’ve never taken Milizopam though because as Dr. Green explained, it’s a sleeping pill.

He explained that whoever drugged me must’ve known what they were doing because when Milizopam is mixed with alcohol it causes memory loss.

We got the call two hours ago which was six hours after my mental breakdown in my bathroom.

Selene also informed me that Slater’s blood was positive for the same drugs which means he isn’t the one that drugged me.

Unless he drugged himself to cover it up, but even then it would’ve been nearly impossible to carry out a plan while under the effects of both drugs.

Slater could’ve still been involved in another way, but he isn’t the one who drugged me.

For that, I feel slight relief, but then I remember that he could’ve still been involved in some way and my stomach starts to churn again and again until the only thing that helps is clutching a pillow to my abdomen as I lay on my side in my king sized bed.

Harvey and Dallas are still working to stop the spread of the pictures and videos on social media, but it’s no use.

The more posts they take down, the more get posted.

I destroyed my phone hastily and Selene already got me a replacement but I have yet to turn it on and set it up.

I refuse to turn on the TV let alone look at it because I know the first thing I’ll see on the screen is my naked body under Slater’s and all I’ll hear is the sound of my moans and his.

Ivory and Brody have refused to leave my side and I appreciate their attentiveness and their concern, but I just want to be alone. I want to go a few minutes without them asking me if I’m okay or looking at me like I’m going to burst apart at the seams and crumble.

I lay in my bed on my side with my back to them as I stare at the wall silently. They think I’m sleeping, but my mind won’t slow enough to even muster a decimal of exhaustion even though my muscles ache to sleep.

I hear a deep inhale come from behind, most likely where Ivory and Brody stand at the door. “I wish there was something else we could do,” Brody whispers, disappointment in her voice.

“I know. I feel like this is all my fault. I should never have left her at the club alone,” Ivory whispers back, her voice full of regret.

I feel a twinge of pain in my chest at the thought that she could be blaming herself for this whole mess.

From what little I can remember and what she’s told us about the events of last night, it seems I was rather pushy for her to leave me with Slater.

I fully trusted him and I feel like such a fool for it.

“It’s not your fault. You know how she can be sometimes.

She’s stubborn and when she decides on something you can’t argue with her,” Brody reassures her.

“It’s not our fault this happened, but we can damn well make sure we help fix it.

” Brody has become so rational and reasonable since getting clean and sober.

I truly think she has an entirely new perspective on life and I love to see how she’s changed.

It almost makes me feel envious because I have yet to grow as a person the way that she has.

There’s a moment of silence that passes between them before Ivory responds, “I swear to God I’ll destroy every member of Thunderstrike with my bare hands if I have to.”

I can hear the pride in Brody’s response, “You won’t have to because Harvey and Dallas will if Selene doesn’t first.”

“What’s Dallas’ deal? He doesn’t even know us so why does he care about this mess?

” Ivory asks, curiosity in her voice. I’ve been wondering the same thing myself.

Dallas doesn’t strike me as a charitable man so whatever he’s helping us for surely isn’t just out of the kindness of his own heart.

Something is in this for him and I want to know what it is.

Brody hesitates, “He…He’s friends with Harvey,” she explains awkwardly.

She knows something more than she’s letting on. Ivory’s voice gets a little louder. “Yeah, no shit. What does that have to do with him helping us?” Ivory asks.

“I don’t know,” Brody responds and I can hear the shrug in her voice. She’s lying. She knows something she isn’t telling us and when I finally muster the strength to get out of this bed and face the harsh new reality I’m in, I’m going to find out what it is.