I just need to get out of here.
Once I’m done with most of my clothes and shoes, I rush to the bathroom, stuffing all my products in a bag. Then I run down the stairs to the living room to collect all the photo frames of my friends and family from the walls.
Dropping the two bags that I already have with me by the entrance door, I sprint back up the stairs and collect the five suitcases and three duffel bags. I let them slide down the stairs one after the other, saving me from the exhaustion and multiple trips back and forth.
I don’t know why I’m rushing. Tommy won’t be back for another five hours. But if I stay here any longer, I’ll suffocate. And if I wait for him to get back and explain himself, I know he’ll just manipulate me into thinking it was my fault.
That he was unfaithful because of me.
It takes me three trips to my car to get everything in, or at least most of it. I know I probably still have a few things that I’m forgetting, but those can wait until I have shit figured out.How I managed to fit all of that in my Mercedes-Benz GLC Coupe? I have no idea. But I owe the company a big thank you.
I walk around the house one last time, making sure I have everything important with me as I wipe my trembling, frozen wet hands down the sides of my coat. When nothing catches my eye, I turn around, ready to head back out, but the sight of the kitchen has me immediately stopping.
I hurry over to it when I realize I was about to forget something important, something I could never forgive myself for if left here. My most prized possession.
I rip open the top cabinet door by the fridge that holds all the coffee mugs, and there on the second shelf sits what I'm looking for. My special mug. It isn't the most appealing-looking mug, big and tall with a bumpy surface. The whole thing is painted a shitty brown with a huge yellow 3D sunflower in the middle on one side. It's pretty cheesy, but it holds great value in my heart, with very few people knowing why.
I grab two cloth napkins from one of the drawers and wrap them around my mug, then hold it tightly to my chest. I still remember the first time Tommy saw it after I moved in with him. He called me childish for caring so much about something so ridiculous and forbade me from using it when he was around. The asshole even tried to throw it away once when he realized I was still using it when he wasn’t home.
The rage that had slightly simmered during my rush to pack my things quickly reignites and boils rapidly through my veins. I set my wrapped-up mug down on the console table by the entrance, then stomp back to the kitchen cabinet.
“You think I’m childish, scumbag?” I say out loud, letting out a deranged laugh. “You haven’t seen shit.”
Taking mug after mug from the shelves, I throw each one across the room, watching as they explode against the wall and shatter into a million pieces. I move on to the cups, plates, and bowls and even grab the trays of silverware and empty them on the kitchen floor.
I run to the living room next, picking up the picture frames I’ve left behind of us clearly pretending to be the happy and in love couple, then smash them against the TV. With force I didn’t know I had, I let out a warrior cry and flip one of the armchairs over, then rush to the next and do the same.
I’m panting as I look around the destruction I’ve caused, then turn to the now blank wall that no longer has any frames along it. I smirk as one final idea pops into my mind and sprint up to the second floor, back into the closet where I left a single pair of heels.
Those atrocious crocodile stilettos Tommy bought me for my birthday back in March. The ones I pretended to love but quickly stuffed in the back of the closet, praying he’d forget all about them and never force me to wear them.
I pick them up with the tip of my fingers, a disgusted expression taking over my features as I look them over. They’re green with a crocodile pattern all over and far pointier than any heel should be at both ends, almost making them look like shoes fit for a witch. I honestly have no idea why he ever thought I’d like them. Clearly, he knew nothing about me even after two years.
Carrying them back down to the living room, I push the couch back against the wall with a few huffs, then climb onto it. Dropping one of the shoes down, I hold the other in my grasp, heel pointed toward the empty wall with a wicked smile on my lips.
“I would normally never mistreat any of you like this,” I say, glancing at the heel. “But you truly are hideous.” Then I smack the pointy heel through the drywall.
I continue digging holes along the wall, spelling out every letter with precision until I reach the punctuation. A nice big exclamation point, and leave the heel hanging out of the little dot at the end. I jump off the couch and take a few steps back to overlook my masterpiece with a smile.
On the originally simple and empty-looking beige wall, the words “YOU’RE A LOUSY FUCK!” now reside, giving it a whole new look that I very much agree with.
I wipe the sweat from my forehead and nod with satisfaction, then pick up the single shoe still on the couch and turn for the TV, slamming the second heel into the center of the screen and leaving it hanging there as well.There. Now it’s perfect.
I walk over to the door, picking up my mug, then step out and shut the door behind me. I debate leaving the door unlocked, not caring if a thief comes by and robs the place, but then think better of it.
Quickly digging my keys out of my pocket, I take the house key off the ring holding it, then shove it into the keyhole and lock the door. But rather than pulling it back out, I set my mug carefully down on the frozen grass and step back from the door.
Lifting my foot high, I thrust my heel into the door handle, aiming for the key with every kick. They’re already ruined, so might as well give them one last moment to shine. It takes several attempts, and I consider giving up at some point, but finally, the end of the key hanging out snaps off and falls to the ground.
Laughing like a crazy woman, I jump up and down on the spot, overly proud of myself. I pass my fingers through my hair, pushing it out on my face before picking up the broken half of the key from the ground.
“Have fun trying to get in, asshole!” I shout, then give the house two middle fingers before picking up my mug and heading back to my car.If he thinks I’m going to sit at home, waiting for him with a nice dinner, he has another thing coming!
Once behind the wheel, I speed off the front lawn and get the hell away from this place.Away from this life forever.
I look up in the rearview mirror a few times, watching the place I’ve called home for the last two years get smaller and smaller the more distance I put between us until it leaves my line of sight. The place that no longer feels like home.
Despite my wealthy upbringing, I loved it here. A cute little two-story suburban house that Tommy owned and asked me to move into after a few months of dating. I loved the life I thought we had. I was happy. We were happy. Or so I thought.
