Page 23 of King of the Unsightly

I twisted back to face Kaschel and smashed into his back.

His gaze fixed on me screamed that he was baffled, wondering how I could act so pleased at a time like this.

My smile faded as a weathered door caught my attention.

Kaschel turned the knob, opened it, and dropped my hand. “You have a couple of hours before we leave. I suggest you sleep in the meantime.”

He pushed me inside and shut it without giving me a chance to process what he said.

I sighed and brushed my fingers through my hair and inspected the room.

It had a Victorian gothic aesthetic with its midnight blue walls and black spiral bed frame with intricate designs carved onto the pillars. The closer I got, the more it looked like skulls with flowers protruding out of the eye sockets. A mirror on every wall except for the one with the vanity dresser beside the bed.

I sat on the mattress, and the fabric was softer than I imagined. I launched myself backward, and the cool comforter subdued my cluttered mind.

The silver tint of Kaschel’s mark on the back of my hand glowed in the candlelight and I wondered,If this meant our deal was set in stone, what would happen to me if I broke it?

One tear escaped, and I almost let the floodgates open when a knock on the door jolted me upright.

Didn’t Kaschel just tell me to get some sleep? Then again, he didn’t seem like the type to respect someone else’s privacy by knocking.

I groaned and left the comfort of the soft fabric and walked to the door. “What?”

The Truth

No one spoke, and I half thought I imagined the knocking.

“Hey,” Jared whispered, and his rough voice ground against my ears.

I brushed away the tear staining my cheek and pressed my hand against the door. I stayed so strong at Hera’s Palace. I held it together so well when he caught me by surprise.

But Jared said one word and my fickle heart drained me of all my sensibility.

One word and all my walls came crashing down.

I physically fought back the tears as a surge of our memories tainted my mind.

We dated for a year. One fucking year.

Until a few days ago, when I stopped by his place to surprise him after my shift with his favorite pasta in one hand and a bottle of red in the other.

Nothing prepared me for what I saw next. When I caught him with someone else in the same bed I told him I loved him in. The same bed I woke up in. Where I kissed him passionately.

In that same bed, someone else wrapped around his body—entangled in the sheets as they devoured each other like wild animals.

How did I hold it together then but not now?

I didn’t even threaten to stab one of them; I only dropped the bottle of wine.

It shattered on the wooden floor and stained the walls and my work clothes.

I was soaked, and just as shattered as the wine bottle.

He tore my heart out, and I didn’t think it could get worse.

Oh, how the world had a funny way of proving me wrong.

I bit my tongue and whispered back, “Fuck off.”

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