Page 19 of Meant for Them
I spin slowly, ignoring the unnecessary barb, empty mug still in my hand. I can't quite seem to figure out what to do with it. “Where are you going?”
He looks at me, eyes no longer blank, but pitying, and I know in that moment he has no intention of coming back. I sink to the kitchen floor, the mug I’ve now forgotten smashing into the tile next to me. I make myself small, I cover my face.
“God damn it, Morgan. You're going to cut yourself apart. I need you to take care of yourself. It's important.” He crawls closer to me, reaching for me, but I flinch. I don't want him to touch me.
“Can you just tell me why? What did I do wrong? Because I thought...” my voice gets quieter, because I'm embarrassed; no,humiliated. These aren’t words I ever thought I'd have to say out loud. “I thought you wanted me. I thought you were going to make me happy. For once in my fucking life, I thought I was getting something good. But you're no different, are you? It's because of who I am, isn't it? Because I'm a half-breed?”
His silence is loud enough. His words, when he finds them, are even louder. “It's not that simple.”
“It is. It really is, actually. Why don'tyoustay, and I'll go. I'm not going to live in your fucking house, smelling you and seeing all your shit when you can’t even stand the sight of me.”
“Morgan, don't be ridiculous. I can provide you with a home.”
“Well seeing as you took my other one away, you're going to, but it's not going to be this one. I can't do much about who I am. If you hadn't come in and fucked everything up, I wouldn't even need you to help me get a new home and a new job. So, you can at least do that for me. And then you'll never have to hear from me again. Give me the means you took away and it will be like I never existed.”
Dying inside but determined to not give up all of my dignity, I stand on shaky legs to sweep up my mess. I don't even care that he has a small cut on his palm from a shard of the mug I dropped.
His sighs get deeper, but there's no retort on his lips. I think it's now that I realize this is what he wanted to hear. He wanted me to give up first, so that he could say he fought my leaving. In fact, I bet there's already instructions in the so-called file folder for me on his desk with an address and a signed a lease.
Fuck the broom. I sprint down the hall, needing to see that file folder. Because if he signed a lease for me, I need to knowwhen. Was it before or after he took my body? Does that even matter? Did he ever have any intention of keeping me? How was I dumb enough to believe him so easily?
My hands shake when I pick up that folder, and it's weird that this is my future. Whatever is about to happen to me is within this re-used paper folder. Seems unfair that something so innocuous can be that important.
I have to look.
The money's on top in a thin envelope, right on top of a brand-new sparkling credit card still glued to the paper the bank sent it on, and I ignore the shiny phone case. Don't need any way of getting ahold of him. Like I'd want to talk to him? Don’t know anybody else.
Andthere. Behind the money he was trying to give me to make himself feel better, is a manila envelope that's too thick to not have a lease agreement in it. In fact, I can hear keys in it.
I tear the envelope because I don't want to be careful right now. The address is a town over, so at least I'll finally get that start over I wanted.
It's a townhouse, not an apartment, which is an upgrade. The pictures on the listing are beautiful. But it's completely empty. Sure, it comes furnished, but what the hell am I going to do in an empty townhouse in a town where I know nobody?
And I’ll never get to use it. It's dated two days after he made me move in with him. So this was his plan along. It makes all his gaslit words of assurance pure betrayal, and makes me a fool.
I knew this was all too good to be true. This is the last time I allow anyone to silence the voice in my head that’s telling me to stop and think.
He has the audacity to walk into the office, to check on me. It's his fault that his massive fucking blown glass paperweight gets chucked at his head. Too bad he's got the reflexes to dodge it, though.
I take a deep breath and start walking. “Well, I'm proud of you for hanging on as long as you did there, buddy. Make sure the next girl that comes in knows how admirable you can be.”
I walk out. I don't look at him again; I simply walk out his back door and don't stop.
“Morgan! Get your ass back here. Where the hell are you going?”
“Wherever you aren't.” I shift, not giving a fuck about the clothes I had on, because that's just one less thing to carry and take care of.
I take off, and he gives chase for maybe a half hour, until he realizes how serious I am about leaving.
In the end, I guess that's all I was worth. A 30-minute chase. But hey, I'm lucky, right? For having someone like him in my life.
eight
Troy
“Damn it. How the hell did you get here?”
Thank fuck my brothers made me take my phone with me for patrol because now I can call them to come and help me.
