Not Broken: The Happily Ever After(46)

“Calida, please just calm down first.”

I shook my head. The tears made my vision blurry, making it harder to locate my keys. I stomped toward the door. The walls closed in. Malcolm was on my heels, pleading with me to relax, and apologizing. My thumb pressed the unlock button in rapid succession. I needed in. I needed away. I scrambled inside, and locked the door behind me. The safety of my car. My hands squeezed the wheel, my head rested against it. Malcolm knocked at the window. Breathe. Just breathe.

I focused on getting air into my lungs, and tried to ignore Malcolm’s pleas, and the growing urge I had to vomit. Silence. Malcolm’s voice was gone. No more knocking on my window. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. The vice grip on my chest loosened. I could catch my breath. The uneasy feeling in my stomach remained, as did the jittering of my hands.

“You’ll always be mine, Ginger!” My head shot up. I looked around my car. Empty. My eyes met Malcolm’s. He stood on his porch watching me. The sight of him caused more fractures of my already splintered heart. He started down the steps. I cranked up my car. He stopped. I put it in reverse, forcing myself not to look back at him. I’m sorry.





Chapter 25


Calida





I walked into the house and headed straight for the bar. Reaching for the wine, I paused and grabbed the Scotch instead. I filled a tumbler and downed the bitter amber liquid in one gulp. It burned going down forcing me to cough. Once I recovered, I filled the glass again, downing the drink, ignoring the burn.

“I shouldn’t feel like I’m competing with a dead man, with that fucking man! It’s almost as if you won’t consider any other options because some messed up part of you is still in love with that bastard!” Mal’s words replayed over and over in my head.

“Some messed up part?” I asked with a sarcastic laugh. I refilled the glass, and gulped the liquor. He should have known by now that all of me was messed up.

I glanced up at the painting over the fireplace. My lady on the cliff. Hair blowing wild in the wind. Arms outstretched as she stood right on the cliff’s edge, ready to leave it all behind. Maybe she had the right idea, just let it all go, and fly away to a better place.

“Maybe I should just jump like you,” I said and swallowed my fourth glass. “But you haven’t jumped, have you? No. Instead, you’re there, teetering on the edge just like me. Waiting...waiting to leave it all behind.”

The stronger alcohol took effect quicker. Maybe that’s why people usually sipped on it as opposed to guzzling, but I needed to forget. Forget…I was always trying to forget, but that was no longer possible. I refilled the glass, my eyes wandered toward the darkened hallway.

The time to forget was no more. I put the empty glass down on the marble bar top and stormed into the kitchen. I yanked a knife from the block. I turned the blade over in my hand, staring as metal caught the gleam of the light. My gazed returned to the hallway, and I took off in a sprint. I threw open the door, and flicked on the switch, flooding the space with light.

The bed. I’d loved that bed. The silk tufted headboard was soft and luxurious. But more importantly, he couldn’t tie me to it. Not that it mattered. He always found ways to control and restrain me. Even being dead hadn’t changed that. My legs were heavy as I moved toward the bed. The light green down comforter looked so inviting. So serene.

I let out a guttural scream, and plunged the knife into the comforter, gutting it with one angry swipe. Feathers erupted into the air. The more I stabbed, the more they flew free, bursting out of their confinement, and floated down around me with angelic grace. Tears poured from my eyes, and my breathing got heavier as I continued the attack.

Another plunge to kill the memories.

I brought the knife down with force to kill the lies.

Straight through the bedding, into the mattress to kill my pain.

I screamed with each strike, freeing the darkness that I could no longer contain.

I stumbled back. My loud deep breaths filled my ears. The comforter, the pillows, and the headboard were all destroyed. They lay in shambles, like my life, but the anger still burned deep within me. My eyes went to the closet door, his closet door. The knife fell from my hand as I took slow steps toward it.

I opened the door and took a deep inhale. “You can’t live here anymore,” I whispered, looking around his neatly organized space.

I grabbed handfuls of clothes, hangers and all, and carried them out of the closet, down the hall. I fumbled with the front door, my actions clumsy, but I managed to fling it open. I tossed the clothes onto the cobblestone driveway before storming back into the house for more. With each new load, the urgency to get his stuff out of the house grew. The weight upon my shoulders lifted.

Tears continued to stream down my face. I wiped at them with the back of my hand as I stood in front of the pile in the driveway, drinking the scotch directly from the bottle. My head spun, and my stomach rolled. I poured the remaining contents of the bottle onto the pile of clothes then threw it, shattering the bottle into a million pieces.

I looked up at the sky. The blues became red as the day came to an end. The sun didn’t hold on to the past. Each day was a new one. I needed to be the same.

I ran back inside directly to the bar, gathering up as many bottles of wine that I could hold. Then I rummaged through the drawers until I found the fire starter. Running back outside, I threw the bottles around the pile of clothing until it and the driveway was covered. The lighter fabrics stained red. Angry swipes to my cheeks cleared away the remaining tears. The time for crying was no more. I clicked the button on the starter and held it to the clothes. Instant flames shot to life. I stumbled back.