For a split second, I thought I’d die from the pain caused by my own words.
But as I said, I was ready.
I lay on the floor, twirling the dead curls as I stared at them, pointlessly.
And then he came for me. My reverie whispered encouragement into my ears, telling me I was beautiful, even with all my scars.
Even without my hair.
“You’re strong and special, my girl. Don’t forget that,” he said, but it was my lips moving to the sound of his words. My arms wrappedaround my body, and I cuddled in on myself, playing the part of both myself and the made-up person who I’d created from a million lies.
And then I felt his kiss. His not really there kiss.
And I knew Woodrow was right to think I’d lost my fucking head, because nothing else could explain this.
Woodrow
Happy ever afters were subjective. What was a great conclusion for one person, wouldn't be for another. That was the case with Jolie and me. . . we couldn't both get what we wanted, because we wanted different things. . . I wanted her forever until the end of time, and she wanted me in a grave, that she, my darling wife, wouldn't even visit.
That gut-churning reflection crossed my mind, the last carriage in line on my horror train of thought.
I walked the carpeted hallways slowly, taking my time to arrive at my hotel door with a heavy bag of food.
Room 666. The fancy numbers stood out proudly against the bright white walls.
It felt appropriate. A room for a devil. . . and that was what she saw me as.
I’d needed the hours I’d escaped this room, wandering up and down what felt like the longest and liveliest street in the world.
I needed to clear my head to stop my brain from exploding. My brain was aching. My stomach swirling from all the pills I’d taken, but Hell was still screaming inside me, clutching at my soul to drag it from its state of authority.
But the fresh air helped. The steam of Hell drifted from my mind with each step I took away from the hotel. Away from Jolie.
It was only now that I was back, close to where I last saw her, could I feel him niggling at the edge of my soul again.
Lethargy and the need to rest dragged me to the door. I tapped my keycard against the sensor and waited for the little reddots to turn green, and then I stepped inside.
The room was in darkness like I’d left it. Like I expected. Silence screamed at me as I clicked the door shut behind me.
My fingers felt for the light switch, and luminosity flooded the room.
My eyes stilled on the cage. I stepped closer for a better view. Jolie was still inside. My shock plastered itself on my face.
I figured she’d have gotten out. I pictured her screaming like a madwoman for help as she ran through one of Vegas’ most sophisticated joints completely naked, bare ass waving to anyone that looked its way. But she hadn’t.
She was cuddled into a tiny fetal position. I couldn’t tell from here if she was awake or asleep, but she was tired. The deep shade resting beneath her eyes proved that.
I pulled my eyes away, irritated by the image of her spine threatening to break her skin and her shoulder blades promising to vandalize her next.
Disgust curled my lips into what I could only assume to be an ugly snarl.
I placed the bag of food onto the bed. I sat down and opened out the contents.
The cage jingled, movement shaking its noisy walls.
The smell of Chinese dishes filled the air and hypnotized my senses into feeling hungrier than I was.
I had no idea what the meal was, even as I released the lid from the carton, but it looked good, smelt delicious, and the chef confirmed it was animal friendly, meaning, none of their remains was floating around in what was going to be my supper.
