Page 75 of Beyond our Forever

The one waiting for me there.

Luckily my dress is not far away, the same as my underwear and even my shoes, they are all very well, sitting on the chair by the window.

Damn light.

Smite my eyes like sabers.

I have barely managed to pass the dress over my head, when from another part of the house I hear a noise. The tires of a car, the horn, and a few seconds later, knocks on the door.

“Ilythia!” Bruce shouts, still beating on the door. “Ilythia!”

In his voice the same despair I’m feeling is heard, only it takes me a lot of work to express it.

I keep moving in slow motion, the connection between my brain and the rest of my anatomy isn’t fully integrated.

I have never felt like this after a night of drinking.

Was it just a few drinks?

Quite a few, I know, but was is that and nothing else?

Mikel. Emilia.

“What did you give me?” I ask the idiot, the one who continues to lie on the bed, showing off, arms folded behind his head.

“What you were asking for,” he answers casually. “We put at your fingertips, babe.”

Another knock on the door, this time louder, echoes throughout the house.

“Fuck,” Mikel grumbles, hopefully referring to himself. “Does he not have respect for private property?”

With the grace of a cat, he gets out of bed and searches the floor for pajama bottoms that he puts on to go see what Bruce wants.

I know exactly what he wants, to get me out of here.

I hear them scream, Mikel trying to keep him out of the house, Bruce pushing his way through.

“You can’t come into my house like that,” Mikel warns as Bruce calls out to me.

“Try to stop me,” my husband snaps. “Call the police, I’m going to love to see you try to explain so much shit to them. Ilythia!”

“Here I am, Bruce!” I barely get my voice out.

As soon as he reaches the door of the room our eyes meet and immediately he knows what happened here last night.

The rumpled sheets, half-dressed Mikel, and my own appearance leave no room for doubt.

Not the slightest.

I can see his heart breaking, so hard it almost creaks. The reflection of disappointment in those dark eyes is as strong and blinding as lightning.

And yet he holds out his hand to me.

Once again, it is he who rescues me from the abyss.

I feel so small.

“Let’s get out of here,” he growls, taking a few steps closer to where I am, still in my stupor.

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