This is the peak of my destruction.
A man— one who I thought would help me gain control back – has managed to eradicate it from my existence.
He realizes what he has done. After her name has slipped from his lips, I feel his body slacken beneath me. As if the secret has been too hard to bear and his body has finally found some reprieve from silence.
It was her this entire time.
Baileigh.
Everything was because of her: his nostalgic looks, his pain and his expensive purchase of me.
I shove off of him with a crushing weight on my chest. Maybe it’s guilt for being naïve enough to indulge in him after he’d claimed he was a monster? Maybe it’s because I didn’t want to acknowledge his curiousness about the fire and the one who set it?
I am swarmed with emotions that make my breath hitch in my throat as I roll off the bed and scramble to stand. Remnants of sex are crusted between my thighs, and disgust begins to accompany my guilt.
“You fucking monster,” I whisper hoarsely. Even my voice is foreign to my ears. Anguish has dried my mouth out completely. I stumble backwards towards the door as he slowly climbs off the bed. There’s no aggression in his posture. He has no desperation like what I'm harboring to scream and defend as my allegations hang in the air.
That’s admission enough for me.
“You knew this whole time and yet you still fucking pretended!” I snarl. He fixes his sweatpants, so his cock is no longer settled outside of them before he runs a hand down over his face and sighs.
“Sasha,” He begins while finally angling his head to meet my expression which is filled with disdain, “I never pretended.”
“Bullshit!” I spew at him, and now after a betrayal as gut-wrenching as this, I find my nudity inappropriate.
I cover myself if only to portray just how much he sickens me, because maybe the look on my face isn’t enough.
His eyes move to my arm which is wrapped around my body over my chest before his gaze sweeps downward to the hand which covers my pussy.
“That’s redundant,” he comments arrogantly before he stands. I try not to let his towering frame intimidate me, but he has that air about him. Yet, in this moment, nothing can dissuade the anger within me.
“So, what? Was this all some sick game to you? Bring in the sister of the woman you killed and prey on her?”
And make her feel—
No! Nothing. I feel nothing for him.
I rote that in my head as if words are powerful enough to dull the ache in my chest; the ache which is not addressed to the loss of my sister but the loss of something else I didn’t know I needed.
When he doesn’t respond, only standing there brooding with his fists clenched, I lose it.
“Did you bring me here so you could replay what fucking happened?” I scream those words at him hoping they sting as much as his façade has done to me. “You are sick, Levi! Sick!”
That’s what does it for him.
He moves towards me with hastened steps that provide no time for escape. Where would I go anyways?
To the ash of my sister’s old apartment building?
To the graves of my parents?
I have nothing and now I truly have no one.
Who am I kidding? I never had Levi to begin with.
“I’m sick?” He questions gruffly as he grabs a hold of my wrists to peel them away from my body. His last attempt to humiliate me the way he has done with his deceit.
“Don’t fucking act like you’re any better. You are broken just like I am. You couldn’t face your own mistakes just like I couldn’t – so what I used you as a fucking outlet. You used me. I was just someone else to control your own chaos, so you didn’t have to harbor guilt about your past, or about the fact that your life presently means fucking jack shit. I wasn’t the only one taking and taking from you – you took from me.”
“Fuck you,” I spit at him before I attempt to yank my arms free of his firm grasp with a few exasperated breaths. “I- I take responsibility.”
“That’s bullshit and you know.” He shoves my arms away from him and that annoyance which has appeared many times in the past presents itself again as if I’m the problem. As if I’m the murderer in this scenario.
My hands' ball into fists down at my side.
“You are nothing but a filthy fucking murderer, and I hate myself for trusting you.”
I whip around, determined to leave his room, to leave his life, but I am bound within these walls.
I walked out those doors before I can do it again.
Right?
I gulp and walk towards his door half expecting him to yank me backward, but he lets me go this time; no running after me, no vicious words to stake his claim to me. There is nothing.
As soon as I am out of his room, it is as if I’ve crossed the threshold in which has held back my tears. The floodgates open and the tears stream relentlessly down my face. I do nothing to hold them back because I know I am powerless.
He killed her. He actually fucking killed her.
No matter how hard I try and push the image out I see her behind my eyelids with every blink. Surrounding her is flames which lick and devour her until there is nothing but unrecognizable ash. There is a new image now. A man – a monster – who births the flames.
I’m crying hard enough to bring a bout of nausea that results in strenuous dry heaves after I’ve made it back to the room I am imprisoned in. Not in the physical sense. In the financial and mental sense.
I have no money therefore no choice.
After I slam the door that’s when I feel like throwing up. I rush to the bathroom and drop to my knees to empty the bile in my throat. My throat feels like someone has poured hot oil down it when I am finished. I try and douse the heat with a few anxious gulps of water from the faucet.
I press my hand to my mouth to wipe the droplets of water just as my eyes make contact with my appearance. I am appalled. My eyes are swollen and puffy shielding none of the despair I feel.
I hate that I can be such an open book.
Baileigh always joked about it.
I have to leave.
I can’t stay in the house of my sister’s murderer. I absolutely cannot.
I move back out of the bathroom grabbing one of the three dresses I own to pull on over my body. I realize I’ve left the only shoes I was gifted at the gentleman’s club.
This is it.
I stare at the room hoping to feel emptiness inside but that would be too forgiving of the universe. I feel a great deal of sorrow.
This is it.
I turn and open the door, yelping when I almost hit into Levi’s chest which is in the doorway.
“Get out of my way,” I demand with an unwavering gaze on him.
“Sasha—”
I hold up my hand interjecting quickly before giving him a sharp shake of my head.
“No. I don’t want to hear anything from you. You are a liar. A liar and an arsonist and a murderer.”
His jaw tenses and I don’t wait any longer. I shove my way past him heading quickly to the stairs when he doesn’t imprison me in his grasp.
“You don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about!” He bellows, and it shakes the entire house. I don’t look back, though. I keep moving, determined to put as much distance between us as I can.
“You’re quick to fucking blame me just to evade your own guilt!”
I feel like he’s slapped me in the face. It makes my steps falter as I become dizzy when I reach the door.
“There is nothing you say that will justify killing her. Absolutely fucking nothing,” I hiss and with those last words I rip open the door. It’s raining; a fitting atmosphere to the disintegration of my last hope.
I step out into the cold suppressing the urge to shiver by biting my quivering lip as raindrops begin to pelt my skin.
This is insane. This whole damn thing is, venturing out into the world with no clear destination is foolish.
But I walk anyways.
Rain and thunder surround me as I move down the steps and walk towards the trees which line the driveway.
He doesn’t run after me which is probably smart because I am close to punching him in the face.
If I had never gotten into an argument with Baileigh than maybe she would’ve never met Levi. Maybe he wouldn’t be standing here with no punishment after the fact she burned in the fire.
I sniffle not exactly sure if its from the cold or my sadness.
I know I can’t walk forever, and I don’t exactly feel comfortable enough to sleep outside.
I scour my brain for alternatives and come up with the only one that got me into this mess.
The Gentleman’s Club.