His hand twitches like he’s about to swing at me. In the past, his hands always twitched before he hit me.
That is it! I cut loose on him. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me, Scott Black! I’ll rip your fingers off and feed ‘em to your cousin over there in biscuits and gravy!”
This is why I don’t talk when I’m mad. This is why it's better for me to stay still and collect my thoughts until I’ve calmed down. I sound like a freaking lunatic who has watched one too many serial-killer slasher flicks.
Rizzo’s mouth falls open in shock, and his eyes are as big as saucers. When I glance up, it’s clear everyone in this room thinks I’m insane. I don’t blame them, I do too. But, at this point, I may as well give them a show since I’m already standing in the spotlight.
Whipping my body around in the opposite direction, I grab the first drink I can get my hands on.
A shot.
My head slightly tips in appreciation of the girl dressed in a naughty firefighter outfit. After swiping the shot glass out of her grasp, I down the liquor in one gulp. It’s tequila. I hate the taste of tequila.
I fight the urge to gag as fire slides down my throat. No one moves around me; I guess they’re waiting for the grand finale. I bow and snap upright again, “That’s all, folks. Thanks for watching the shitshow,” I announce, praying they’ll take the hint and go back to whatever they were doing before I lost my shit in front of everyone.
The room is quiet for a second longer until Rizzo opens his mouth. “You heard the lady, it’s over.” He backs me up, smacking his hands together.
“Thank you,” I mouth to him silently, and he nods. Maybe he isn’t as bad as his cousin. It sure seems like he’s a better person than Scott. Yet, if I’ve learned anything from being in a relationship with Scott, it’s not to trust a person based solely on a few interactions.
The first things you notice about a person are usually the things they want people to see, the best parts of them. But, if you watch a person long enough, their actions will show you the ugly truths that their mouth refuses to acknowledge—the secrets that lie quietly within a person’s bones, not the parts a person proudly wears on the outside for the world to notice. Once you’ve seen the rottenest pieces of a person’s soul, then you can decide if they’re trustworthy. Only after, and never before.
“Star, wait,” Scott begs in a pitiful voice, and I stare in his direction. This man is either stupid or brave, I don’t know which. I can’t take any more. I have to get out of here; it’s so unbearably hot in here. I frantically search for somewhere to go that won’t require me to pass Scott to get to it. An open doorway is at the other end of the room, and I stomp off toward it without another word.
The cool breeze gets stronger with each step that brings me closer to my freedom. When I reach the door, I close my eyes and finally breathe a sigh of relief.
It is over.
We are over.
The storm is over.
The night air pricks my skin, and a chill runs through my body. I welcome it, shutting my eyelids as I stretch my arms at my sides, and fight the urge to lift them above my head as I twirl in a circle. I told myself that if I was going out that I wanted it to be worth my time, never imagining I would be the chaotic halftime show for everyone else to watch. I don’t regret it.
Keeping my eyes closed, I lift my foot over the threshold and take a blind step into my new life. A life without toxicity sounds like a dream to me.
My face whacks against something hard, and a deep grunt rattles out of what I hit. My feet wobble beneath me from the impact, and something shoots around my waist, steadying me. I think it’s an arm, but if it is, it’s made of steel. It feels rock-hard behind my back.
I open one eye and then the other, looking down and then slowly let my focus drift upward. A white dress shirt stretches to the max over well-defined abs and is meticulously tucked into black slacks. Two black suspender straps pull tightly over delicious pecs, and a crisp white collar tops it off.
A pair of glowing green X’s stares down at me from a black wolf mask trimmed in neon green. The masked man tilts his head to the side but doesn’t speak or withdraw his arm.
Panic blasts inside my head. It’s the same mask Scott wore to the party, but this can’t be him. Can it?
“Scott? How in the…You were just back there,” I mumble and glance back to where I left him standing with Rizzo.
He’s not there.
Please no.
No, no, no. I just got away from him.
“Star, that isn’t me! Get away from him!” Scott yells from the bar, ripping off his mask for proof.
Without hesitation, I reach around the masked man holding me and pull my body closer to his, flipping Scott off with my other hand. “Good. Maybe he knows how to act like a human being and can get me off,” pops out of my mouth before I think about what I’m saying.
My masked man doesn’t say a word, but his body vibrates with silent laughter.
“I’ve got you, Astra.” He finally speaks, and I can almost feel defeat bursting through my newfound sense of peace.
