Imperfect Truth(58)

My heart beats frantically out of my chest. I feel like it’s being stomped on. I feel desperate, staring at the open page. I pray for a miracle. I pray that I won’t have to endure this much longer. I read the words on the page. Every word, every description.

It’s me.





ADVANCED READER COPY RELUCTANT TRUTH





She was petite; her waif-like frame standing a little shy of five foot four, but it was her bone structure that lured me to her. Delicate, fragile, beauty defined.



Reading those words wreaks havoc on my already tired soul, but I keep reading and the deeper I get into the story the more perplexed I become. Feeling despondent in her marriage, the main character embarks on a torrid love affair with another man. However, much to her naivety, he systematically breaks her down, feeding her lies and deceit, building her up just to watch her fall.



It was when she told me about her dark book fantasies that I knew I had to have her. Her need to give up control fed my depravity. I researched her, studied her. I figured out the ideal moment to lure her in, when she would be the most vulnerable. I played off her insecurities, and then I stumbled upon her by “coincidence.” I knew full-well that she’d be at the fundraiser. I decided this was the perfect opportunity to strike. Surrounded by the pretentious nature of the event, she would be at her most susceptible to my advances. I knew exactly how to play her against herself. How much to give her and how much to take away, so she would give everything to me. Every move was calculated, every dismissal planned. All culminating in the final act of her surrender.

“You will be mine,” I said to her, but I had no desire to own her. None.



The book continues to detail each move. It was like watching a game of chess unfold.



Making her fall for me was exhilarating, but the knowledge that she had altered her life for me? That was a high that could never be surpassed.



The storyline rises to crescendo, with him making her leave her husband, and then…



My desire was to see if I could. She was my ultimate test. Once I had her…I had no desire to keep her.



I could read no more, tears were pouring down my face. I saw myself through his eyes, beautiful, but really just a pawn in his deplorable game. He was laughing at me the whole time. I thought back to the other stories in the series, and as the tears threaten to drown me, I thought of all those before me. This was nothing but a vicious cycle, each story told by the predator catching his prey. I was his latest muse.



Me: Is it true?



I throw my phone and run to the bathroom dry heaving. I can’t believe how foolish I am. I’m not even worthy of pity. I’m just plain tragic. It feels as though someone has robbed me of all oxygen. I’m not even worthy of a response.

God, I sound desperate.

I am desperate.

It’s too much.

I feel too much.

I’m disposable.

I’m one of many, placed strategically to feed his ego.

I'm not special…

I realize this now.

Thoughts of him consume me yet again. I can’t breathe without remembering his lips, the way he smirks, the look in his eye when he is taken over by desire.

My heart crashes in my chest.

I’m hollow.

I was thrown out, left broken beyond repair.

I’m not right.

I’m not okay. I can’t live like this.

He ripped my heart out.

He broke me.

I’m ruined.

I have no one. My heart is empty.

I reach for the bottle near my bedside. The pain is still too unbearable. One pill will calm me. Peace, it’s right there, and I can taste it as it slips into my mouth. Moments pass, but there is no relief. The pill isn’t working. I take another half, but anxiety still grips me. My chest is still pounding. The clock is still ticking, but time for me has frozen. My hand reaches over to the bedside table. I take hold of my solace, and once again, I swallow.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

My erratic breath lessens.

The calm envelops me. I feel no more pain.





I HEAR VOICES.

Muffled whispers.

Nothing.

Silence.

Beep, Beep, Beep…

Silence.

Blackness.

Faint voices.

Hushed words in my ears.

I reach for the sound; my arm feels like lead.

Nothing.

My consciousness fades in and out.

Twilight cascades down.

Beeping…

A squeeze of my hand.

Darkness envelops me.

Like a dream.

A slumber.

My eyes flutter open.

My vision is blurry, and my throat feels like sand paper tearing at my vocal chords. Spots dance in my vision as my eyes try to adjust. The scent of ammonia permeates the air. The glare from the window reflects off the white barren walls. As I turn my stiff neck, green eyes come into focus.

Alexandre.

He is seated at my bedside holding my hand. “Ava?” His tormented voice cracks as he whispers my name.