Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Six
The sound of glass shattering wakes me from my deep sleep with a jolt. I sit up in bed, my eyes alert and frantic as I look around the room. I reach across the bed, pulling my phone out from under my pillow and see that it’s two in the morning. I unlock my phone and type 911 into the keypad as I carefully get out of bed and make my way to the door.

With my heart clogging my throat and cold dread rolling through me, I carefully open the door, make my way to the hallway railing and peer down to the floor below. I glance around and finally, my eyes fall on the source of the crashing. I let out a deep sigh of relief and slip my phone into my pocket as I make my way downstairs. With each step, my concern grows as I watch a dishevelled-looking Julian haphazardly pour himself a glass of vodka while shards of broken glass lay at his feet.

His cheeks are rosy, his eyes are glassy – but not from crying – his jacket is nowhere to be seen, and his shirt is rolled up to the elbows with his bowtie hanging loosely around his neck. By the looks of him, this isn’t his first drink of the night.

“Julian, is everything alright?” I gently ask.

“Whoops. Looks like I went and woke up little miss perfect. We can add that to my never-ending list of fuck ups, shall we?” he says mockingly as he takes a swig from the glass.

I freeze in my tracks, eyes wide in astonishment. “Where the hell is that coming from?”

“That’s what you think of me right? Just some rich boy fuck up,” he slurs, spilling his drink on the floor as he waves his arm around aimlessly.

“Julian, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t think you’re a fuck up. Where is this coming from?” I question in confusion.

“It’s coming from the fact I’m a complete and total failure!” he slurs belligerently, swaying as he zig-zags over to me.

Instinctively, I take a step back, not liking the way he’s behaving one bit.

“I have never once called you a failure,” I calmly remind him. “I don’t think that at all, but I’m more than willing to talk about whatever has happened to make you feel that way. How about you put the drink down and we sit down and talk?” I gently suggest with a reassuring smile.

“Don’t fucking patronise me,” he scoffs in disgust. “I couldn’t keep you. The most perfect woman to walk into my life and I had to go and fuck that up. Brought you to this big penthouse to keep you safe and I couldn’t even fucking do that, and it turns out, the one thing; the one thing, I’m fucking good at, and I can’t do that either.” He sniffs, tears pooling in his eyes as he takes another swig of his drink.

“What are you talking about?” I prompt, sympathetically registering all the guilt he’s been bottling up.

He downs the rest of his drink, “I’m talking about the fucking Oscar nomination I was fucking PROMISED!” he screams, hurling the glass against the wall causing it to shatter into pieces.

I flinch, shocked by his outburst as I stare at him with fearful eyes. Never once have I been scared of Julian or even thought he was capable of hurting me physically, but to see him this upset with who knows how much alcohol in his system, I’m not sure how safe I am with him at this very moment.

“I did everything, EVERYTHING that cunt of an agent told me to do. I worked my fucking ass off and how does the industry repay me? Just tossing me aside like every other fucking person in my life. Just up and abandoning me no matter how hard I fucking try,” he expresses in outrage as he fists his hair in his hands.

Taking a deep breath I take a tentative step forward. “Julian, I don’t think you’re a failure. This is a setback, certainly, and I can’t imagine how horrible it must feel for you, but this doesn’t define you. This doesn’t make you a failure. I think once you’re able to sleep this off you’ll find some clarity and feel better in the morning and then we can talk about it some more,” I warmly suggest.

“Once again, perfect little Nalani feeling like she has to come and calm me down. Like the way you had to calm me down with the cops the other night even though it was you I should have been calming,” he says with a sarcastic snort. “When are you going to realise you keep putting your trust in a complete and fucking loser?” he says bitterly, his bloodshot, drowsy, sapphire eyes looking at me with an expression I’ve never seen from him before and never wish to again.

“You’re not a loser,” I try to argue.

In two quick strides, Julian stands nose to nose with me, gripping me firmly by the shoulders until I wince. “You sure about that? Can you really say that about the guy who cheated on you?” he seethes icily, his alcohol-laced breath hitting me in the face and making me recoil, which only causes him to tighten his grip.

“Julian, you’re hurting me,” I alert him, trying to get out of his grip.

“Would you still be so trusting of me if I told you I spent the night getting my dick sucked by any woman who begged for it?” he spits in a low, vicious voice as he stares daggers into my eyes.

His words make my blood run cold and bile rise up my throat as the image of that night at the club jumps right to the front of my mind. I feel the tears pricking my eyes, but I refuse to let them make themselves known. Suddenly Julian lets me go and steps back. We stare at each other, eyes full of loathing meeting ones filled with hurt. Julian is the first to look away, walking over to the bar to pour himself another drink.

I sniff, feeling my nose starting to get stuffy as the tears threaten to spill from my eyes, his words replaying over and over in my mind, painfully flogging me again and again.

“You know, I don’t know if what you just said is true or if you just said it to get a reaction out of me. Either way, it was hurtful and uncalled for. You know what your problem is? It’s not that people abandon you, it’s that you push people away. The moment someone tries to get close you self-sabotage and the very second your life doesn’t go how you want it to, you fall apart and you self-destruct and you destroy everything around you. You’re not a loser or a failure, Julian. You’re just afraid.”

With his back still to me, I walk away, making my way to the stairs. I place one foot on the bottom step and turn back to look at him.

“And just so we’re clear, you will never touch me like that again,” I declare firmly.

With those words, I walk upstairs to my room and start packing my bags. The truth is, I want to help Julian, but you can’t help someone who doesn’t want it. I won’t let him think this behaviour is okay, or that he can keep hurting me one way or another, and I sure as fuck won’t stick around knowing that in his next drunken rage, it could be more than just a painful grab that he gives me. I care for him deeply, and part of me – despite everything – still loves him, but I can’t live like this. We can’t live like this. Every time I think things are amazing between us, whether romantically or platonically, he has to go and destroy it. I can’t be around someone just bringing more toxic shit into my already toxic life, I can’t fucking handle it.

Once my bags are packed, I make my way downstairs. I quickly glance around, but I can’t see Julian anywhere. I take in one final deep breath and get into the elevator, watching the doors close on yet another destroyed sanctuary. The tears threaten to spill, but I force them back as the elevator doors open and I step out into the lobby. Oliver gets up from his seat and eyes me with concern as he registers the bags in my hands.

“Is everything alright, Miss Contreras?” he softly asks with genuine concern.

“Could you please call me a cab?” I ask with a trembling voice.

His concern deepens, but with a nod of his head, he steps back behind the desk and calls a cab for me. After a minute, he lets me know that one is on the way, and not wishing to spend another minute feeling his eyes on me or wanting to answer any questions, I step outside to wait for my cab. The night breeze is warm and yet it does nothing to soothe the cold chill rattling my bones.

Time seems to evade me because before I know it, my cab is pulling up and I’m tossing my bags in the back, climbing in and giving the driver my address. I thought about going to Irina or Áine’s but it’s almost three in the morning and I’m getting really sick of being that friend who has to constantly come running to them every single time I have a problem. I’m just too tired to be another person’s charity case.

In no time at all, the driver is pulling up to my old complex, but it doesn’t feel familiar to me anymore. I feel like I’m returning to somewhere I’m not even wanted, but it’s not like I’m overrun with choices right now. I pay the driver, collect my bags and make my way through the courtyard and into the complex. As I approach my apartment door I can feel the dread rising inside me. I start to feel lightheaded, and my palms become cold and shaky. Approaching the door, the first thing I register is that the stain on the rug from where I was attacked is no longer there.

Anxiously, I retrieve my keys and with trembling hands, I unlock the door. I flick on the light and brace myself as I enter but I’m completely floored by what I walk into. It’s absolutely spotless. I shut the door and drop my bags on the ground as I look around the apartment in disbelief. I had honestly expected to walk into the gruesome remnants of a crime scene but instead, it looks pristine. It looks no different to any other time I’d return home from work, only this time there’s no sweet Ily to greet me and I feel an immediate pang of sadness in my heart at the thought of it.

I place my keys on the kitchenette and it’s now that I register the strong scent of lemon that is trying to mask chemicals and is doing a poor job. By the looks of things the place has been thoroughly cleaned and I think the walls have even been repainted, not to mention brand new sheets have been put on my bed. I walk over and examine the sheets and recognise them as the exact same sheets I had in my room at Julian’s place.

Did…did he have my apartment dee- cleaned for me?

That was enough to do it. I sit down on the edge of the bed and let the tears fall freely from my eyes. The same man who just a short while ago was going out of his way to hurt me is the same man who secretly removed all signs of the horrific acts that took place in this apartment. How am I supposed to reconcile that? How can someone so sweet also be so cruel?

I’m about to lie down and cry myself to sleep when a voice in the back of my mind tells me to hold off. I quickly get up and with tears streaming down my face, I grab one of my chairs, lock the front door and jam the chair under the doorhandle. Just because this place is clean, doesn’t mean I feel safe here. I don’t think I could ever feel safe here again, but for better or for worse this place is mine, and if I’m going to be living here again then I’m going to have to make some changes.

First thing tomorrow, I’m putting a deadbolt on that door. Maybe even several.