Page 94 of Monster Among the Roses (Fairy Tale Quartet 1)

I didn’t want to answer the door. I didn’t feel like being kind or polite to anyone and there was nothing left here for my siblings to take. The only reason I dragged myself from the couch was because I thought it might be Isobel, though I wasn’t too sure I wanted to see her either. I still didn’t have the energy to deal with the kind of talk we needed to have, and my head wasn’t yet in the right place to make decisions about us. But the draw of maybe seeing her again had me opening the door anyway, even as my gut tensed with anxiety.

At first, I didn’t recognize the person in front of me. It took me another minute to realize she was even a woman. Her head was shaved, not just short but completely bald, and her clothes were sagging loose, hanging off her in a bland beige heap, kind of like sackcloth. No makeup lined her lips or eyes. It took her saying my name and me recognizing her voice to realize who she was.

My eyes widened. “Gloria?”

After drawing in a deep breath, she smoothed her hands over her stomach and said, “I know what I did was wrong. But I’m sorry, so see…” She spread her arms to show me her new look. “I did all this to show you the depth of my woe. Now you know I’m not lying when I say how very sorry I am.”

I blinked at her, stared two seconds longer, then said, “You shaved your own head to get me to forgive you?”

She nodded and bit her lip. “Did it work?”

I snorted. “No. That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard of anyone doing,” and I slammed the door in her face.

If only that had run her off.

If only.

She smacked her palms against the door, cursing my name through the wood. Then she yelled, “I thought if I became hideous like her, you’d finally see me.”

Those words hit a trigger. Detonating, I flung open the door and marched out into the hall to loom ominously over her. And she knew she’d said the wrong thing. Her mouth opened to backtrack, but I pointed at her, silencing her.

“Oh, I saw you,” I told her in a deadly calm voice. “I saw you all these years; I just didn’t like you.”

When her eyes filled with horror and her mouth gaped, I shifted closer, making her retreat a fearful step in reverse. “But you didn’t care what I wanted, did you? You never cared what I wanted. If you had, you might not have been such a malicious lying bitch when Isobel walked into that hospital room. You might’ve realized how much I loved her and needed her that day. But no, you only thought about yourself, and you chased her away to fill your own purpose, which destroyed me. You wrecked my life.”

“But I thought you—”

“No!” I roared. “You didn’t think about me at all. You thought about you, how you could step in and pick up the pieces of my poor, pitiful broken heart, then fit me back together into some mold you thought I could fill so I could give you the happily ever after you’ve always wanted. But I can’t. I’m not the man you keep trying to make me, and I don’t want to be.”

Her bottom lip trembled. It only angered me more. I pointed toward the stairwell.

“Get out and never come back. If I ever see you again, I will hurt you in ways you never even knew were possible.” I’d hurt her the way she’d caused me to hurt.

Even though she’d just backed away from me, revealing her fear, she lifted her chin in challenge. “You don’t mean that. You’d never hurt me.”

Oh, yes, I would. Maybe not physically, but if I were ever to hurt any woman, it would’ve been her.

“Get out!” I shouted so loud I caused a couple doors to open down the hall and neighbors to peer out curiously. I stepped toward Gloria, lifting my hands as if to strangle her. “Get out.”

She yelped in fear.

My fingers shook from the force of my rage. “Get off of my floor.”

Gloria skidded a few more feet in reverse.

“Get out of my building.” I started to follow her, the intent clear in my eyes. I wasn’t sure what I actually would’ve done if I caught her, but it was a good thing she retreated, turning away from me and hauling ass toward the stairwell.

“Get out of my life!” I hollered after her.

As soon as the top of her bald head disappeared from view, I added, “And I hope your hair never grows back.”

Less than ten minutes after I slammed my way back into my apartment, another knock came on my door. I was still too hyped up on anger and adrenaline to realize the knock had been far too polite to be Gloria. But I couldn’t think who else it would be, so I stormed forward and threw the door open, ready to tell her how much she disgusted me.

When I came face to face with Henry instead, I faltered, stumbling off balance before I could steady myself. He didn’t seem to notice the fluster he caused. His head had been bowed humbly.

When he lifted his face, he looked regretful. “Shaw,” he murmured, nodding respectfully. “Ezra told me what happened. I’m sorry to hear about Margaret.”

I nodded and let out an unsteady breath. “Thank you, sir.”

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