by Lily White
“I can’t do that, but I can speak with the building manager. If you’ll just wait for a moment, I’ll bring him to you.”
They return a few minutes later, the manager approaching me to speak low enough that the people passing through the lobby can’t hear.
“Ma’am, I’ve been told you’d like to have a message delivered to the penthouse.”
Turning to him, I smile as innocently as I can. I’m not sure it helps. Surely, he can see the pain and hatred behind my eyes.
“Yes, I lived with him a little while ago and left some personal belongings. I need access so I can run up and grab them.”
The building manager looks like a kind man. He’s older, his hair entirely white. Confusion bleeds behind his brown gaze.
“I’m sorry ma’am, but we won’t be able to help you.”
“It’s just a phone call,” I insist.
He smiles, the expression not reaching his eyes. “I’d like to help you, but it’s impossible. Mr. Shepherd vacated the penthouse three months ago. He’s left no contact information or forwarding address. There’s nothing we can do.”
My heart sinks at what he tells me, and it doesn’t escape my notice that he’d lived in this place under yet another assumed name.
Three months?
That means Ari left before I saw him last. He’d been gone a full month before he told me the truth of how he knew me.
“Thank you,” I say before rushing off. I don’t want him to see me crying, don’t want anybody to see me shatter.
It happens anyway, the tears falling as I reach the sidewalk, my body shaking as I brace myself against a wall just to hold myself up.
Ari knew he was leaving me.
He’d known the entire time.
Three Months Post Ari
Every day is getting easier. I’m not fracturing anymore when I wake up, even if I’m still fighting in my sleep.
Things have returned to normal for the most part. I still remain conscious of my dreams, still wake up in weird places every so often, still see a shadow hanging over me that will never go away. But the face is gone. The name. The hope that I’d foolishly felt that a hired killer could be the man that would save me.
Normal for me is now the daily routine I go through to get ready for the gallery show coming up. I’ve surrendered myself to the project, using it as a method of stripping myself of a certain demon who ended up being the devil himself.
That’s my theme. The truth about Ari. I never show him as a person. Just a figure with horns that waits for me in secret places, a destroyer of all that is good and pure in the people he runs across.
The photos are turning out wonderfully. But they make me cry when I finish them. Each one is me letting go of him a little more. Each one is a representation of regaining my life and discovering who I am.
Today, I’m in the cemetery where Ari first introduced himself, and after spending an hour at my parents’ graves, I grip my camera in hand, Mad World by Tears for Fears blasting through my earbuds as I brave the chaos I know the mausoleum will create in my heart.
Blowing out a breath, I approach the iron gates and step through, my pace slow as I weave through the rooms, my heart stuttering to a dull thump as I walk up to the stone crypt where he’d first kissed me.
I know the shots I want to take here, and I should have turned around to leave the instant the idea was in my head, but my feet are rooted in that spot, the happy, upbeat song changing to another on my playlist, one that is a cruel trick of the universe to play right now.
I can’t breathe as the first few notes of A Perfect Circle’s Gravity play, the song making me think about everything that’s happened. Everything I’ve lost and have to regain again. I have work to do. I know that. But still, the pain is there. The reminder.
Our entire relationship flashes through my head and I stand here crying while staring at the place it feels like it first began.
I knew better than to come here. Knew better than to add this album to my playlist. But maybe that’s what it takes to get out from beneath a weight that is slowly crushing you.
Maybe you have to tear yourself apart so that when you’re free of it, you begin the process of stitching yourself back together.
It’ll take a lot of thread to mend the damage Ari created. But I can do it.
I have no other choice.
Four Months Post Ari
Green eyes stare over at me, so much hatred behind them that it takes me back to the night Grant almost killed me in our bedroom.
I can feel every slap, every punch, every time he grabbed my hair to jerk me back up so he could hit me again. I can feel my head slamming against the floor, the tightness in my throat every time he made me read another text so he could punish me for it.
Every moment of that night is front and center in my thoughts right now, his lethal stare doing nothing to scare me anymore.
I’m stronger than that now.
Smarter.
Less willing to hand over any part of myself to a man who can’t appreciate the gift I’ve given him.
“It seems all the paperwork is in order, and I assume based on the parties’ mutual agreement that there are no unresolved issues that will prevent me from finalizing the divorce today.”
The judge looks up at Grant’s team of attorneys and then over to mine. “Is that the case, gentlemen?”
Everybody nods, the courtroom silent thanks to Grant demanding the final hearing be closed to the public. It’s the first thing he’s done since I escaped him that I can agree with.
Even now, he continues using our drama to drum up business, to present himself as the loving husband that was played by his cheating whore of a wife.
Whatever. As long as I never have to see him again, I’m perfectly happy going along with it.
“Well, then I guess there’s nothing left to do other than hear from Mr. Cabot and Ms. Kane.”
The judge looks to Grant first. “Mr. Cabot, do you agree with the terms of the Marital Settlement Agreement and also agree that your marriage is irretrievably broken?”
Grant straightens his spine, rolls back his shoulders and shoots one more scathing look in my direction before pasting on his professional grin to answer the judge.
“Yes, Your Honor. My wife is a lying, thieving whore, and I want nothing to do with her.”
The judge’s eyes widen a bit at his statement before sliding to me.
“And Ms. Kane, do you agree with the terms of the Marital Settlement Agreement and also agree that your marriage is irretrievably broken?”
I glance at Grant, smile sweetly, and turn to bat my eyes at the judge.
“Yes, Your Honor. I discovered after being a lying, thieving whore that there are men out there who can give me multiple orgasms, one after the other, unlike Mr. Cabot who has no clue that it takes more than a pencil dick poke to get a woman off.”
My attorney’s head falls forward as he lifts a hand to cover his face. His shoulders are shaking, whether from tears after dealing with me or laughter, I’m not sure.
Grant, on the other hand, looks like he might have a stroke with all that angry blood rushing to his head.
I smile again. Flip him off even though nobody can see my hands.
With a shake of his head, the judge signs the Final Order and dismisses the courtroom. I stick close to my attorney’s side as we leave, just in case Grant has any ideas.
Thankfully, we reach my car without any drama, and Jerome shakes my hand before waiting for me to climb in the driver’s seat and take off.
As I pull out of the courthouse garage, I glance in the rearview mirror, happy to leave that chapter of my life behind.
I’m slowly healing.
Slowly gaining my footing again.
Another few months and I should have my life where I want it.
Poor Little Adeline is now a force to be reckoned with.
And I did it by myself, without the need of anybody helping me.
Five
Month Post Ari
Black Orchid is thumping tonight. I’m standing outside among the line of people, my arms wrapped around my body and my legs bouncing as if it can chase away the chill outside.
Beside me, everybody is dressed in the typical black, and I have to laugh to think I’m actually old enough to be here for once.
How long has it been since I let myself go wild for a night?
Too long, my behavior changing when I met Grant and dated him before getting married.
But I’m back, dammit! My smile stretches wide at the thought that I’m finally in a place I like, that I’ve suffered many years of stumbling and losing myself, but I found her again, that girl I’d been before my entire world fell apart.
I want to celebrate her. Celebrate myself. Celebrate that my photos are done in time for next month’s show. Celebrate the routine I’ve developed that keeps me busy and happy. Celebrate surviving the worst this world had to throw at me.
I survived.
I’m a fighter.
And tonight, I’ll drink and dance. Tonight I’ll find that freedom I’ve been chasing and learn what it means to laugh again.
However, I’ll be smart about it. Water between each drink so I don’t get too drunk, and I won’t be going home with random strangers.
I’m here for me. For what I love.
Not for all the men who would use me to get off.
The line moves forward, and after paying the bouncer and flashing my identification, I let him stamp my hand before going in the door.
The place hasn’t changed a bit. It’s exactly how I remember it.
I order a drink at the bar and take a sip when the bartender finally slides it over to me.
Weaving my way to the side room with all the cages, I find an empty high top table in the back, finish my drink instead of just setting it down where anybody can mess with it, and I move to the music pounding the room, one song transitioning to the next, a mix night with a blend of old music and new, dark and happy, the DJ perfectly blending so many different types of music that I fall in love with the utter chaos of it.
I’m sweating by the time I return to the bar, order a water and another drink, slamming both before I return to my spot and dance within the crowd around me.
A few men approach me, but I politely decline and dance away from them, this night is for me and nobody else.
One more drink and another hour of dancing and I’m feeling amazing, sweat dripping down my skin, my hair a wild mess, my body moving through every song as I sway my hips seductively and spin.
The Killer’s Mr. Brightside starts playing, and I smile and begin to move, the upbeat music and lyrics reminding me of when I was young.
But then it happens, the hair standing up on the back of my neck, the feeling I get every now and then that someone is watching. I used to ignore it in the past, but now it’s enough to stop me in place, to make my feet move as I spin in a slow circle to study every person in the room.
The song is just hitting the chorus when I spot a tall man in the back of the room. He leans against a wall, a black jacket covering his broad shoulders, his face concealed by shadow, his dark hair a mess around his head.
Do you have any idea how many times I’ve watched you dance and wished I could fuck you right there in front of everybody? Just splay you open and force my body between your legs.
No.
It can’t be.
I hate to admit how my heart bursts at the thought of seeing Ari again, how the first thought in my head is elation that he is still watching, instead of hatred for what he did.
As soon as I stare at his face, he moves to leave, weaving his way through the crowd as he turns his shoulders and slips past a tight group of people.
Chasing after him, I collide with a few people before finally finding a straight shot through the crowd, my feet moving quickly as I yell stop! at his back.
Practically running, I catch up to him just as he’s approaching the front door, my hand slamming on his shoulder to turn him around.
A smile lights up my face as he spins to face me, the expression melting into a frown when a set of blue eyes look back at me.
“Sorry,” I mumble, the joy bleeding out of me. “I thought you were someone else.”
The guy shrugs before turning to leave.
I’m left standing in a sea of moving people, my heart choking on the realization that despite everything, Ari is the only person I still need.
Six Months Post Ari
“These are beautiful, Adeline. Absolutely stunning. I can tell you poured your heart into these shots.”
Standing near a far wall in the gallery, I turn at Rebecca’s voice, her long strawberry blond hair falling in waves down her back, her black sequined gown shimmering.
The night is winding down, only a few stragglers left wandering the gallery to view my art.
Glancing down at her figure, I’m astonished to see she’s lost all the weight from her pregnancy, the dress hugging all her curves in such a way that she’s a knockout.
“Thank you,” I answer, unable to hide my shock.
She grins at me and bumps my shoulder with hers. “It’s easy to lose the weight when you’re working out constantly.”
“I can’t imagine you in a gym,” I remark.
“That’s because I consider it more a playroom.” There’s a twinkle in her eye as she says it, something secret and dirty behind that crooked grin.
“How’s motherhood treating you?”
Another grin. “Our daughter is amazing. I’m absolutely in love with her, but her father is having a hard time with it.”
“He’s not used to the late nights and all the crying and screaming?”
A thoughtful look. “No. He’s used to that kind of stuff. He’s just not used to worrying about what will happen to her when she grows up and starts dating. He’s already threatened to kill any man that touches her.”
Her eyes move back to the photograph in front of us. “So, he’s the devil now, is he? You keep upgrading him.”
The photograph is of me walking through the woods, a dreamy shot, hazy and gothic. I’m wearing a dark gown as the devil himself approaches me, his coat flying out, his horns prominent.
“He’s something,” I say, no strength to my voice.
“Do you miss him?” she asks.
Only truth rolls over my lips. “Every day. Even though I shouldn’t. He did something unforgiveable to me.”
Rebecca’s hand touches mine. “A bit of advice: if you have the opportunity and there’s a chance to try again, try to look past what he’s done. It’s not easy, but sometimes men like Harrison don’t know any better until they find the right woman to teach them.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I answer before silence falls between us for a few seconds.
Finally pulling her eyes from the photo, she looks at me. “Well, you’re two million dollars richer. I’ve been meaning to tell you all night. Every photograph has been sold.”
My skin bristles at the amount. “Let me guess. An anonymous buyer?”
Her lips curl into a grin. “Yes, and I’m bound by contract not to reveal the name.”
Not that it would be his real name, anyway. Probably just another one of his thousands of aliases.
Still, it warms my heart to know he’s paying attention. Two million dollars. A few more shows like this and I’ll be set for a long time.
“It’s getting late,” Rebecca comments. “Do you need someone to walk you to your car?”
“I’m fine.”
We give each other a hug before the lights in the room brighten, signaling the end of the night.
Leaving the gallery, I walk the city streets that are now mostly empty, only a few people passing by on their way to the bars.
I’m lost in my thoughts as I make my way to my car. Parking was a bitch when I arrived, so I’m a few streets down and around a corner, my heels clicking on the cement.
I’d hoped Ari would
show up tonight, that it would be that moment in all the happy endings where we see each other across the crowded room and I cry and we talk and everything works out.
But it didn’t happen, disappointment riding my heart. I know he’s still out there, still watching. He has to be because nobody else would have paid so much for those photos.
Yet he doesn’t approach. Doesn’t care enough to try and argue why I should forgive him.
Rounding the corner, I pull my keys from the small clutch I’m carrying, my head lifting up when I notice movement in the shadowed alleyway beside me.
My heart beats hard, hope bursting inside me, but when I turn to see a pair of grey eyes looking back, I see green instead.
Grant’s lips pull into a sick grin. “You stupid fucking whore.”
Before I can move to get away from him, he reaches out to tug me into the alleyway, his hand covering my mouth so I can’t scream, his body slamming mine against a brick wall that scrapes the side of my face.
“Thought you could get away from me didn’t you? You thought you could embarrass me like you did and get away with it.”
His hand sneaks up my front to tear down the front of my dress and squeeze my breast. Tears burst from my eyes from the pain, my legs kicking to dislodge him.
It’s no use. He’s bigger than I am. Fucking enraged while I’m choking on fear.
Hot breath skates down my neck when he presses his mouth to my ear.
“Shouldn’t have made fun of the way I fuck you, Adeline. Where I’m taking you, I’ll have hours to show you what a good little whore you are. Your precious boyfriend won’t be able to save you this time.”
His arm lifts and something hard catches me in the side of the head. My clutch drops to the ground, my keys clattering beside it.
My body falls next, my eyes closing against my will as Grant picks me up to carry me.
Adeline
“What do you see when you sleep?”
Ari used to always ask me that. Usually when I was naked beside him, my body curled to the side of his, his fingers playing through my hair while he stared at the ceiling or wall and I was fighting my eyes closing.
It was hard, those nights. I wanted to stay awake forever, to not fall into the oblivion only he could lure me to. I didn’t want to miss a moment, probably because I knew it wouldn’t last.