Page 46 of Dancing With Delusion

I run out of there, not taking a moment to look back. How could I be so fucking stupid? I rub aimlessly at my chest as if it will somehow heal the pain that’s ricocheting through my heart, splitting it into a thousand broken pieces.

I thought this was it. I thought I wouldn’t have to fight alone anymore, when in reality, I’m destined to be desolate.

The taxi pulls up outside the manor. I don’t remember much of the journey back, and when the driver speaks to me with pleasantries, I can’t muster the words to reply. The pain is too much, too overwhelming.

I step out with my mask in my hand. It’s raining heavily, as if the weather is in line with my emotions, but I don’t bother to walk any faster as I trudge up to the house. Instead, I allow the water to soak through my clothes and I tip my head up to the sky, letting it dance with my tears.

The door is still a jar, and I slide off my heels, leaving them just inside. I peer into the lounge as I pass and notice Nik hasn’t moved from the couch, but now, his soft snores fill the air. I sag in relief that he isn’t awake because it means he didn’t notice my absence and therefore can’t gloat at my devastation.

When I enter the master bedroom, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and a sob leaves the back of my throat. I stare at my reflection. The pristine woman who left here a short while ago is no longer present. Instead, staring back at me with hollow eyes is a wreck. A broken wreck.

My beautiful dress is soddened, and my eyes are puffy from my tears. The waterproof mascara I purchased in good faith is streaked down my cheeks in long black smudges. My hair sticks to my face in wet clumps, and if Vivian was to see me now, I’m certain she’d be full of joy at seeing my downfall.

I turn my back to the mirror, sliding down it as I grip my hair at the roots and tug in frustration. I try to hold my cries at bay, but they escape, echoing around the room.

My entire life has been a cascade of lies, broken promises, and people who claim to love me. The only time I’ve ever felt true love was with Dmitry, and now, it’s been replaced with grief. The loss that we will never be is hitting me hard.

I stare at the bed we share and realise I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of chasing life. I’m tired of just being and never feeling enough.

I crawl to the bed and feel around underneath until my hand lands on the cold metal box I stashed there when I first came to stay. I hold it to me, relieved it’s still there and Dmitry didn’t find it.

Taking off the lid, I stare at the contents. It feels like such a long time ago that I needed it, but right now, it’s consuming my thoughts. I need it to calm my racing mind. Just one time and then I’ll stop.

Pulling out the blade with a shaky hand, I make the first cut to my upper arm, but it doesn’t ease the tightness in my chest. I cry harder, willing the pain to go away as I dig the blade into my skin, taking it deeper this time.

The crimson fluid drips down my wrist, pooling in the lap of my dress, but there’s still no relief, not even a little. I dig the blade in farther, dragging it up until the cut is so long, the blood is now spilling out freely. I inhale, closing my eyes as the pain mixes with my heartache. Dizziness begins to set in, and I slowly lower until I’m lying on the carpet, watching the red soak into the cream material. My eyes grow heavy, and my breathing feels laboured, like it’s suddenly too hard to do.

I smile to myself as the familiar buzz rings in my ears. I finally feel peace replacing the pain. I close my eyes and let the darkness take over. I’ll feel better after a rest.

Somewhere in the distance, I hear the door open and my name is being called. “Tori. Tori.” Large hands grab my shoulders as they shake me, still calling my name. They sound so worried, so I force a smile to show I’m fine. The pain isn’t so bad anymore. “What the fuck have you done?”

I’m exhausted, and even though they’re demanding I open my eyes, it’s too hard. I try to lift my hand, to reassure them, but even that’s too difficult. There’s only one word on my lips. “Dmitry,” I whisper. I don’t know if I even say it out loud as darkness drags me under again.

Dmitry

My phone buzzes again, and I pull it out to see it’s Marshall. I’m certain it will be another tale of Victoria’s escapades, so I cancel the call and tune back in to the conversation. For once, I’d like an evening with no drama.

Vivian sidles up beside me, placing her hand in the crook of my arm, and I narrow my eyes. She’s gotten far too comfortable this evening and it’s beginning to grate on me. “Your father is a hoot,” she whispers.

I glance across the room to where he’s speaking with a politician. “Yes, he knows how to work the room for sure,” I reply, turning away from the group of men so they don’t overhear our conversation.

“And I have to say, it’s been lovely to be seen and heard,” she adds. I arch a brow, waiting for her to continue. “I’m so used to blending into the background with my father manipulating the conversation that I forgot what it was like to speak up and be heard.”

“Unfortunately, it seems to be a man’s world when it comes to business.”

“Well, I’m going to change that,” she says with confidence, and I offer a smile. She’s determined, and I know she’ll achieve it . . . with mine and my father’s help, of course. “You know, I like this new truce we have.”

“Yes, business doesn’t mix well with pleasure. Things are much easier now.”

She bristles at my words. “Dmitry, why are you so quick to shut me down whenever I broach the subject of us?”

“Because, Vivian, there is no us. Not anymore.”

She stares at me for a moment, a range of emotions passing over her face, and I wish we’d kept the masks in place so I don’t have to witness it. “Aren’t you tired?” she almost whispers.

“If this is going to be another lecture about Victoria, then save it.”

“It’s not,” she rushes to tell me. “Just, wasn’t it easier before her?”

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