Page 222 of Fighting the Forbidden

The show returns and follows Deadass and two of the ring girls while they frolic in the pool under the moonlight. My stomach clenches as I wait for some update on Griff.

The show stops at Venom in the phone booth, talking to his wife. The show’s sort of framed her as a nag, which honestly, I think I’d prefer to dumb virgin slut.

Bull and Pirate spar in a cage.

The screen switches to the grainy black-and-white footage again.

“Wait a minute,” the dramatic voice-over says. “Did Griff invite Kiki into his room after all?”

The camera zooms in on the door, then jump-cuts to a dark, shadowy bedroom.

Two people are in the bed.

Under the bright white comforter.

Moaning.

“Looks like Griff has a difficult conversation with his girlfriend coming up.”

The camera focuses on Griff’s back. A woman’s long nails digging into his shoulders. His body moves over the woman. “Shhh,” he keeps saying every time the girl moans too loud. Then a harsh, whispered, “Hurry up.”

Bile burns the back of my throat.

Everyone in the living room stops breathing or moving. No one says a word as we all stare in horror. I can’t look directly at the screen.

Don’t cry. Don’t throw up.

I suck in a deep breath, fighting the tears stinging my eyes and the pain in my throat.

How could I have been so dumb?

I really thought Griff and I were destined to be together. Our years of friendship meant that we had a deep connection. I believed him when he said he was competing on this reality show to secure our future. When they introduced the girls into the house, I wasn’t worried.

I trusted him.

Our love is strong.

Strong enough to withstand weeks apart.

But not strong enough for Griff to resist temptation.

My chest hurts, and I drag in a ragged breath. How can his betrayal physically hurt so much? Never mind the embarrassment of my friends and family surrounding me while we all witness the love of my life cheating on me on national television.

I trusted him with everything.

On wobbly legs, I walk out of the house and onto the front porch. Fog dulls my brain. My thoughts tumble in a painful circle. If anyone calls after me or follows, I can’t hear them.

Air. Oxygen. I can’t breathe.

Griff…with another woman.

Those grainy, black-and-white images. The voices. His voice. Shushing her. Hurry up.

That’s not the sweet, loving, patient way he treated me.

That doesn’t ease any of my pain, though.

I squeeze my eyes shut but the images won’t go away. My mind fills in the gaps of what I couldn’t make out on the screen. Griff’s face, his body. The other woman, who’s been yapping to the cameras about how hot he is for weeks, touching him.

---