Page 50 of At My Worst

“What?” I ask, tilting my head to the side. Brittany takes a step towards me, and I hold my ground as my hands form into fists.

“The new whore you have, she won’t understand you, not the way I do,” she says, keeping her eyes on me.

Brittany doesn’t know me, not really. She only cared about the parts of me that benefited her.

“That is the point, Brittany. She is not like you,” I snap back.

“She has changed you, Alex,” she snaps.

I laugh and shake my head. “I know. She brings out the best in me, but you, Brittany, you bring out the fucking worst.”

“You will come back to me. We always come back to each other,” she says confidently.

“Not this time, Brittany. Go find another poor guy to fuck with because you are done fucking with me,” I say as I walk past her.

She doesn’t respond as I walk up the steps. I grab the doorknob and turn as I watch her drive away. I never thought I would say those words to Brittany. We have a long history, a history that is filled with suffering, violence, and pain.

I never saw her for what she was, not until after she fucking destroyed me.

That is why I tell Bianca that she can make me bleed because I know for a fact I will make her bleed.

What Brittany did was change me into the worst version of myself.

Now Bianca is turning me into the best version of myself, and I will not let anyone fucking destroy what we have.

21

Bianca

5th Week in Port Angeles

“Power”by Isak Danielson

Imake my way into the building, walk over to the wall, and look over the different paperwork. My heart stops as I reach up and grab the papers that I need. I look down at the papers in my hands and try to hold back the tears that are trying to escape and roll down my face.

Not here, Bianca, not here. At least wait until you get outside. Pep talks are great when they fucking work. So far, it has been, but I feel unhinged, crazy fucking emotional. I am so tired of being emotional all the fucking time, but in my line of work, I have learned we all have a grieving process with everything we go through, and mine has no middle. I am either angry, drunk, or crying.

I quickly turned around and walked right back out the door I came in. I walk down the steps to the sidewalk, holding thepapers tightly. I keep walking until I reach the sand path leading to the dock.

I don’t know if I am ready to read over these papers or make the phone calls I need to make to ensure these are the correct papers I need, but at least I took the first step. I know it is over, and I am no longer running from that. But walking away and signing the papers are two completely different things right now.

I don’t know if I am ready to do what I know needs to be done. But honestly, I don’t know if I will ever be ready. There are just some things that no matter how much you tell yourself, it will be okay, and you will get through it; your brain will never fully fucking believe you. This is one of those times.

It is what is best for all of us involved, but it doesn’t make it any easier to sit down and sign. It is not just me signing something. It is me actually admitting and saying I am done. This is the official fucking document to prove that I am done and walking away for good.

Failing is something I know well. It is not something new to me, but I never thought in a million years when I said yes to my husband that one day I would be signing on the line stating I am done, stating that we are no more.

There are a lot of things I never thought would happen that have now happened. Things are more complicated than ever, but I confessed to Alexander. I let him in like he has been wanting for a while, and now that I have, there is no going back for me.

I look out at the waves, the salt water hitting my feet. I love this place. I love how this place makes me feel, but at this moment, even the feeling of the water and the sound of the waves will not take this sickening feeling away, but I know something that will. Alexander and I have been taboo since the moment we met, and there is one fantasy on my list that I did not tell him about, one that I wanted to surprise him with. Tonight, with booze and his intoxicating eyes, I think I will be able to make it a reality.

I slowly get up from the dock and turn around, making my way towards my rental. I hold tightly onto the papers as I look down the beach and see the tavern. I know he will be there tonight, but I don’t think I will show up. He has taken me off guard many times, and I think it is time to switch it up. I think it is time I let go before I crumble to the ground.

The booze will numb the throbbing in my chest, and Alexander will consume my body and make me feel alive, which is what I need right now. I need it so fucking bad that I might break into a million sharp pieces if I don’t get it. He is my glue right now, gluing me together and helping me forget how cracked I have become and how cracked I will continue to be until I give in and put my signature on that fucking piece of paper.

I climb the stairs and open my back door, setting the papers on the table next to the door. I grab my flip-flops and slip them on as I close the door, head back down the steps, and turn toward the tavern. If all these fuckers can have some fun, then I can have some as well. Maybe they know something I don’t. Maybe drinking away this feeling and getting lost in Alexander is the thing I should do.

I push past the drunk people, past the table Alexander fucked me on, and past the parking lot where we had our first sexual encounter together. The sexual encounter that changed everything.

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