I stagger behind Lizzy and notice too late that someone is in my path. I dodge just enough to barely brush against the person, but an outraged shout tells me something has happened.
When I stop Lizzy and turn around, I see it’s Sarah, whose glass is lying on the floor. And her black dress is wet.
Oops.
I cover my mouth and have to giggle, which Sarah and her friends obviously don’t find amusing.
“Watch where you’re going! Look at the mess you made, you clumsy oaf,” she snaps, and Lizzy and I roll our eyes simultaneously.
“Don’t be such a drama queen, Sarah. You could’ve moved out of the way. Lia didn’t do it on purpose,” Lizzy intervenes, but I see the dangerous glint in Sarah’s eyes. She won’t let it go. She’s looking for trouble.
All evening she’s been trying to get close to Nicolas and shooting me nasty looks, so my grace period is over. Too bad I’ve been drinking and my inhibitions have shrunk considerably, which is why I turn fully around and glare at her with narrowed eyes.
“I’m sorry, Sarah, I didn’t see you in time. It wasn’t on purpose,” I apologize nicely, but she just snorts scornfully.
“Believe what you want. Isn’t it enough that you stole Nic away, even though he doesn’t want you? That you now have hisring on your finger means nothing,” she hisses, and Lizzy groans in response.
“Oh man, Sarah, just drop it. Just because my brother fucked you a few times doesn’t mean he’s madly in love with you,” Lizzy shoots back sharply, and the brief, jealous sting inside me fuels my recklessness.
“Well, now he’s fucking me. Get used to it,” I shrug, wanting to walk away, because this conversation is pointless and annoying.
This is my wedding party, damn it, and I want to have fun tonight.
“You disgusting slut. First you kill Phil, and now you want to snatch the next heir to the throne? Whore. That’s what they call you, I think.” Her eyes sparkle provocatively and a bit crazily, but the alcohol clouds my mind and I respond.
“I’m not the whore. As far as I know, you spread your legs for everyone, not just Nicolas. At least I only sleep with one at a time.” I glare at her disdainfully, and the dark, bitter side of me wants out. I want to hurt her, to wound her. I’m so tired of always being put down.
Fueled by anger, hatred, and alcohol, my words become a sharp weapon, and they clearly hit their target, because moments later my cheek explodes and my head snaps hard to the side as Sarah’s hand slams into me. The sting is sharp, intense, and painfully familiar.
My subconscious reacts and wants to protect itself, but the punch, the humiliation, all the pent-up feelings about my situation mixed with the alcohol are too much. I lunge at her, grab her by the hair, and we fall to the ground.
Enough. I’ve had enough.
My fist hits her nose, it cracks horribly, and a sharp pain shoots up my wrist, but I don’t care. I just don’t care.
Red. I just see red.
I barely notice what else happens. It’s like I’m in a trance.
I don’t want this anymore. Enough.
I hate her.
Everything blurs into a red ball, and I fight back. I hit, bite, scratch. Only when a strong arm wraps around my waist and pulls me away do I slowly come back to myself. But I’m angry, so angry.
“Let me go. Let me the fuck go.” I try to break free, but Nicolas holds me firmly and gets me out of the hall.
No.
My skin feels too tight, like I’m going to explode. There’s so much anger and hatred, so much pain and grief, and it’s all about to consume me if I don’t let it out.
Nicolas throws me over his shoulder and storms into our apartment, slamming the door shut behind us and locking it. He locks it, damn it, he actually locks it.
“Now let me down, you idiot, and open the door again. I have to…” Whoa, the room spins as he suddenly sets me down gently. My legs tremble, and adrenaline surges through my veins like a drug.
I want to kill her.
I want them to be quiet.
