Empowered

by Cynthia Dane

  After all, when there was a knock at the door, a person answered. That was good manners.

  “Can I…”

  A harsh hand landed on Sarah’s cheek.

  “You fucking whore!”

  Sarah was too shocked to respond right away. It took Nigel leaping up from the living room couch to keep the woman in the fur coat and $500 root touchup from clobbering Sarah on the head with French-tipped fists.

  “I had to look you in the fucking face, you depraved bitch!” The woman was no match for Nigel, who promptly picked her up and removed her from their entryway. Elizabeth was on the phone with the police, a bottle of pepper spray in her hand. For God’s sake, Mum! The last thing this family needed was pepper spray flying in the house! “My God damned husband! You fucked my husband, slut!”

  Sarah looked into the woman’s crazed face before Nigel managed to lock the door in front of her. Words that Sarah dare not try to remember echoed through the door. What a nasty person… So happened that nasty person thought she was the nasty one.

  “Don’t listen to that tosh.” Elizabeth directed her daughter toward the living room, where Carly still sat on the couch, speechless. “What a loon.”

  Sarah sat in the large chair by the TV. Elizabeth patted her shoulder and went into the kitchen to get more tea, the one thing she assured was the best medicine on the planet. Nigel stayed by the front door in case that woman returned or brought some friends with her. She won’t. She came here in a crazy moment of passion. Once the woman realized what she had done, she would skedaddle, hopefully before the police arrived.

  Sarah didn’t want her going to jail, even if she had hit someone.

  “I’m sorry,” Carly said from the couch.

  “I’m fine.” Sarah rubbed the tender spot where the woman had slapped her. “Been through worse.” She got up and went back to her room before anyone else could fuss over her. She never saw the police – only heard her brother dismissing them when they arrived. Thank you. He knew she didn’t want to speak with them about something like that.

  She was right, wasn’t she? Sarah sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her pointed toes. I probably did sleep with her husband.

  When Sarah gave over to her persona, all she cared about was making new friends. Sexually, of course, but it was easier to think of them as “new friends.” Angel didn’t ask personal questions. For fuck’s sake, she didn’t remember most of the names of the men she hooked up over the past several months. Once Sarah was involved, she stopped caring about anything other than having a decent time.

  Still… that meant she was complicit, didn’t it? Those wives and girlfriends didn’t give a fuck if Sarah didn’t know about her partners’ married life. All they saw was the siren who lured their darlings away with her magical, sex-craved pussy. How many divorces had that sex tape initiated?

  To think, I had been so angry at Lucas when I thought he was married and screwing around on the side. I’m a hypocrite.

  She picked up her phone for the first time in hours.

  “THE PSYCHOLOGY OF A WANTON WOMAN.”

  She put her phone down again.

  Something was lodged deep in her throat. She couldn’t breathe.

  That wasn’t an angel dwelling inside of her. That was a demon hellbent on ruining everyone’s lives – including Sarah’s, apparently.

  ***

  Another sleepless night claimed her. For two nights in a row, she didn’t sleep.

  Too bad for Elizabeth, who insisted on sleeping with her daughter during her stay. That meant Mrs. Clayborn didn’t get much sleep either, for her daughter tossed and turned for half the night before finally getting up and sprawling across the couch, hoping late night movies would put her to sleep.

  Her mind was consumed with toxic thoughts.

  You’re a disgusting whore. You’re nothing but trouble. How many fucking people have you slept with since that moment? What did you think it was going to do? Heal you? Make you feel stronger? More empowered? Put the choices in your hands! Ha! Yeah, fucking right. You’re a slut looking for excuses to ruin lives. Where’s your accountability, huh? Where was it back then?

  Where was it… back then?

  It was while looking at the back of the couch, curled up in the fetal position with a thin blanket draped across her, that Sarah finally cracked.

  This was the thought she had when Angel was born. Her nights playing Angel were supposed to save her from these awful thoughts.

  You’re the reason your baby died.

  Wasn’t she, though? Sarah had a bad feeling when she went to see Russell that fateful night. Hadn’t she told him about the baby the last time they met? Why would he invite her over to a previously nondisclosed location for a celebration… so late at night?

  Sarah knew he wasn’t a kind man. He was a deliberate man, though. Russell Monroe didn’t waste a single thought or motion on anything – or anyone – that didn’t matter. He would never flippantly invite Sarah over unless he had a plan. Usually, that plan was getting into her pants. I thought we would celebrate the old fashioned way.

  Maybe some form of fate was at play. Perhaps karma watched over her that night, waiting for her choice that would decide the rest of her doomed fate. Was it the moment she accepted an alcoholic drink even though she was pregnant? I wasn’t thinking. I was still getting used to not being allowed to do things. I had only recently decided to go through with the pregnancy… I completely spaced it until it was too late. She shivered beneath her blanket, remembering how relaxed she had been when she took that first sip, Russell Monroe sitting across from her with that satisfied grin on his wrinkled face.

  Sarah thought it was because he was proud to be having another child. The man was obsessed with his legacy and his genepool. Even if he wouldn’t marry Sarah or acknowledge the child legally, wouldn’t he at least be proud that he had managed to “do that?”

  I should have known. I should have fucking known!

  At around three in the morning, she began to cry into the back of her couch, her muffled sobs so wet and demanding that she once again couldn’t breathe.

  This was her punishment, wasn’t it? She let her child die. She was why she had been in so much pain that she retreated into herself, halved herself, and lived a life of needless depravity, as if she had every damned right to do so.

  She should have known.

  Nobody was allowed to get away with this for long. At some point, fate would come for her. Hunt her down. Plaster her across the world for everyone to see and judge. Would it have hurt as much if Lucas wasn’t going down with her in the process? This man who claimed to love her so much that he would stick by her side even during this scandal?

  He needed to walk away! He needed to think of his son and stay far away from her!

  How could it even be a choice? If his jealous ex-wife presented either his son or Sarah… he always should take his son!

  That’s what Sarah would have done.

  That was the right thing to do.

  That’s what fate, what karma wanted her to do, because she hadn’t thought of her child before it was too late.

  She didn’t mean to awaken half the household, but Nigel was the only one who came out of his room and sat with her on the couch, his eyes glued to the TV while one hand remained on his sister’s shuddering side.

  ***

  “I’m not doing so hot today.”

  “What’s wrong? Do you need me to come over?”

  “No. I think I caught a crud because of how stressful things have been recently. Maybe I got it on our trip. I don’t want to get you sick too.”

  “Are you sure? I’ll have some things sent over.”

  “That’s sweet. Thank you.”

  “…I’m serious, Angel, if you need anything, tell me, okay? I love you.”

  “I know you do. I’m sorry for putting you through all of this because of my carelessness.”

  “Carelessness? How were you supposed to know that something like thi
s would happen?”

  “But because it’s happened, you might lose your custody case.”

  “You let me worry about that, okay? The only thing I want you worrying about right now is how you’re holding up. Take care of yourself, Angel. Things are rough right now, but they’ll get better. I promise. I’ve got my PR person working overtime taking down anything with your name and face in it.”

  “I appreciate it, Luke. I’m hoping this will blow over soon.”

  “It will. I promise.”

  Sarah hung up, rolled over in her bed, and went right back to crying. Not even speaking to her boyfriend helped her feel a bit better.

  ***

  No matter how many times Sarah insisted she’d rather be alone, she couldn’t get away from well-meaning individuals.

  Her mother smothered her. Nigel was like a shadow ready to block out somebody’s sun if it came down to it. Lucas? He was the worst one of all, and Sarah didn’t even live with him. When he wasn’t calling her twice a day to make sure she was all right, he was coming over to her place, inviting her over to his so she could “get away from her family,” and sending her little gifts that were meant to cheer her up.

  The more shit she received, however, the more upset she became.

  Ever since that day her name and face exploded all over the internet, Sarah began a descent into mental mayhem that made her want to carve her own brain out of her head. When she wasn’t blaming herself for everything that happened in her life, she was swinging dangerously close to the other side of reason.

  The side that told her to fully embrace the monster she was inside.

  Angel, of course. She was the monster. Sarah had taken every bit of emotion left in her bones and shoved them into her Angel persona. She was the only one allowed to love, cry, need, want, and desire. But because she lived so many extremes, she was also more likely to leave destruction in her wake. Because when someone dealt with so many emotions like that at once? They made poor choices. Choices that eventually caught up to a woman.

  She could either double-down as Sarah and feel nothing for the rest of her life. Or she could try to chip what she could from Angel and hope to feel normal again.

  Before, I would have doubled-down. After all, I have to be the one who gets through this shit alive when everyone else is dying around me. That’s what she told herself until her family finally went out to get some fresh air, leaving her behind in her quiet apartment.

  Without her mother breathing over her shoulder, Sarah opened her closet and dug out the clothes she wore whenever she “became” Angel. The wig. The sexy underwear. The slinky dresses and bombastic boots. Her mother hadn’t come into the closet once during her stay. If she had, Sarah would have heard all about these obvious choices in wardrobe – they were in that video, weren’t they?

  Sarah held the blond wig in her hand and stared at the dress she had worn the night she met Lucas.

  You did that, Angel. You hooked us a man who’s in love with me. Sarah would never be able to get rid of that dress for that reason, even if she never wore it again.

  He’s the only man who has seen both of these sides so intimately…

  Sarah wanted to feel it. To feel the love Lucas so desperately wanted from her in turn.

  In order to love the man who had done so much for her, she needed to embrace every emotion she had shoved into these boots and bras. That included desire.

  And anger.

  So. Much. Anger.

  Sarah pulled her T-shirt and jeans off her body before reentering the walk-in closet. She passed the work pantsuits, the everyday street clothes, and even the outfit she wore the night she met Lucas. The only thing she still held in her hand was the blond wig.

  She adorned herself in all black. Boots. Garters. Underwear. Dress. Coat. She pulled the wig on her head, gingerly tucking her real hair beneath the cap. While she didn’t pull out her makeup, she still recognized the woman who was in that damned sex tape.

  “You’re a no good whore, aren’t you?” she asked the mirror in her closet. “Absolutely no shame.”

  Sarah stepped out of the closet and opened a box on her vanity. Her more expensive jewelry lurked within. Diamond earrings. Tennis bracelet. A few heirlooms her mother gave her when she graduated college.

  A black-beaded bracelet the woman at the funeral home had given her a year and a half ago.

  “Just because you don’t have anything else from your baby doesn’t mean his soul isn’t out there somewhere. These beads give mothers comfort.” Like rosary beads, Sarah supposed. She had never been religious, but she had kept the beads. Why not? The woman had been right. Sarah had nothing else from the child stolen from her.

  She slipped it onto her wrist. Something glittered in the overhead light. When she held her wrist up to her face, she saw a flat, silver bead with the inscription “God Gave All Angels Wings.”

  When she lowered her arm again, the anger finally claimed her. Anger she could not fly away from, no matter how many broken wings God gave this Angel.

  Chapter 25

  She stood in front of the three paps still camped out in the park across from her building.

  They had been too shocked by her sudden presence to react. At first, anyway. Within two seconds, they had their cameras flashing and their mics in her face.

  “You’re Sarah Clayborn, right?” the only one with real guts asked. “Can you give us a statement about what’s been going on?”

  They asked her more specific questions, but Sarah’s mind was already moving forward on full-blast.

  “What’s going on? Why, isn’t it obvious?” She lifted a cigarette to her lips and lit with a bright pink lighter, the black beads of her bracelet clacking in the mic. “The slut’s come out of her closet and is ready to cut loose.”

  She blew her smoke into the camera lens before advancing down the sidewalk. Her wallet was tucked into the deep pocket of her coat. Her morals and common sense? Left behind in the apartment for the paps to squabble over. My face and words are going to be on the gossip sites tonight. Everyone will psychoanalyze me. My doctor is somewhere shaking her head.

  Sarah finished her cigarette by the time she reached Monroe Tower a few blocks away. She didn’t smash it beneath her boot, however. That would be a waste of a perfectly good sole. Instead, Sarah would espouse some morality and take her cigarette to the smoking section and deposit the butt there. One man in a suit on his smoke break glanced up at her with nothing but shock in his dark eyes.

  “You work in accounting, right?” she asked. “I like your face. Cute.”

  “Uh…”

  Sarah twiddled her fingers on her way out of the smoking corner. Her next stop? The executive elevator, guarded by one of the dayshift security personnel.

  She knew him. He definitely knew her, once he looked past the weird getup.

  “Ms. Clayborn?”

  “Don’t mind me, Jim. Got something to drop off.” She helped herself into the elevator reserved for the Monroes, their most important guests… and their #1 personnel, like Sarah.

  Nobody in the office had expected her. From the moment Sarah stepped off the elevator, everyone within a hundred feet stopped what they were doing. Especially Alice Monroe, who had been walking across the room with a stack of folders in her hands.

  “Ms.… Clayborn? Is that you?”

  Sarah stopped in front of her. “What? Don’t recognize me from my acting debut?”

  “I…” Mrs. Monroe put her folders down on the nearest desk and crossed her arms, elbows resting against her protruding stomach. “What are you doing here?”

  “Stopped by to let you and Mr. Monroe know that as of today I’m giving my two weeks’ notice. It’s been a laugh and a half, Alice, but I’ve got shit to do.”

  Was Alice more shocked by the casual address or the way Sarah was dressed? Both. Honestly. Look at me! I look like I’m about to stroll into a BDSM dungeon and grab some man’s balls. She wouldn’t know anything about that. She’s the
one who gets spanked and feels the wrath of the nipple clamp.” Those had never appealed to Sarah. Or Angel, for that matter.

  “I see. I’m sorry to hear that, but I understand.”

  “Do you?”

  Other executive personnel stopped what they were doing to listen in on the exchange between the company matriarch and her former employee – the employee she had gone to bat for so many times that it was almost embarrassing. Because what did Sarah love more than anything else? Pity, of course! She fucking thrived off it, didn’t she?

  “If you have grievances, Ms. Clayborn, I’m sure they can be aired out in private. I don’t have any meetings right now if you would like to step into…”

  “No need. All you have to know is that my two weeks’ notice starts today. I can help you select a replacement, but beyond that, I’m done here.” She turned. “Give my regards to your husband, the generous benefactor that he is.”

  She said that with so much sarcasm dripping from her fangs that Alice remained frozen where she stood, mouth agape and blue eyes wide enough to swallow the nearest person.

  Sarah stopped off in the bathroom on her way out. She ran into Alisha by the sinks.

  Someone had altered her appearance.

  “I see we both changed our hair.” Alisha tossed her long, straight hair behind her shoulder. What the hell? Sarah was so used to seeing the other assistant with her afro that this was… uncharacteristic. “What a week to decide to relax my hair for the first time in years. Thought I’d do something new, but… well! Been too busy to properly take care of it because someone else is on leave.”

  Sarah turned on the sink. “Spare me your passive aggression.”

  “Oh, I’m not snarking on you. If I were you, I’d definitely lay low for a while.”

  “I just gave my two-week’s notice.”

  “Damn. Really? Shit. Now what?” Alisha laughed. “This is what happens when a girl changes up her look. Everything goes to hell.”

  “Don’t I know it.”