Page 13 of Fourth Point Of Contact

“As far as I can tell, you’re only retrieving your things from a man who never deserved you.”

“You seem awfully sure of that.”

“I’ve lived here longer than you.”

At the disgust in his eyes, I knew that I had been a fool all along. James had been a massive player, and somehow, I never saw it. No wonder everyone in the office thought I was a skank. They all assumed I was just another one of his women. And that just pissed me off.

I swung back and thrust the damn extinguisher into the door a final time. The crack was satisfying enough, but not nearly as much as the broken door that now allowed me access to my things. I tossed the extinguisher aside and smiled at Mr. Crawford.

“Well, I wish you the absolute best of luck, and I hope you have lots of orgies that keep him awake at night.”

He chuckled, shaking his head at me. “Not my style, but I’ll try to give him hell.”

I saluted him. Why? I didn’t know, but I shoved the broken door open and marched inside, ready to get my things and move on with my life. Except, as I made my way through his fancy apartment that I used to admire, with its sleek lines and expensive furnishings, all I felt was cold. How had I not noticed before?

I assumed all he needed was a woman’s touch. God, how I soaked in all his lines about how he’d never known someone he could talk to so easily. His sob stories about not truly knowing what it was to love because of his upbringing had torn at my heartstrings. I basked in the knowledge that I had been the one to change his life. Yes, I was the one woman who could mend his poor, mangled heart.

I studied the space that I once called home and sighed. Just yesterday, I had laid on that couch with him. I’d made him dinner after a long day, giggling as he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me, making me feel like a princess. And then he’d taken me on the kitchen table, shoving my dinner from the surface so he could spread me out and feast on me.

“I’m so stupid,” I muttered.

I’d actually thought it was romantic how he couldn’t wait to have me. Now, all I saw was the food on the ground that he so carelessly tossed away. All my hard work to make his dinner so he wouldn’t be hungry, and he acted like it was nothing. It was amazing how quickly perspective could change when you’d been screwed over by the man who was supposed to love you.

“No point in dwelling on it now,” I said to myself. “I just need to get my things and move on.”

I strode to the master suite to gather my things, but the moment I shoved the door open, I knew something was wrong. It felt too…clean. I walked over to the closet and flung the doors open, gasping when I found my half empty. Not a single blouse or shoe remained. I had been wiped from his life.

I spun around and rushed over to the nightstand, flinging the drawer open as I searched for the necklace from my mother. Gone. It was gone, along with my favorite watch that didn’t match my ring. Anger swarmed me as I looked around the room, noting all the little touches I’d added had been stripped away. It was as if I had never been here.

How had he managed to remove me so effectively in one afternoon? I stilled as I realized that was not all that had been wiped clean from this apartment. I searched room by room, moving methodically in search of the one prized possession I could never leave behind. But with every room I searched, it became clear that everything was gone.

I tried to stay calm. I really did, but the anger built so fiercely inside me that I couldn’t contain what I knew was coming. I marched out the front door and grabbed the fire extinguisher. If he was going to take everything from me, I would do the same to him.

I pulled the pin and grabbed the hose, looking around for my first victim. Grinning, I walked over to his beloved couch and took aim. “This is for screwing another woman when you were supposed to be mine.”

I sprayed the entire couch, but didn’t stop there. I walked through every room, taking aim at his most precious items. His favorite recliner. The windows that always had to be streak-free. His kitchen, where I spent way too many nights slaving away over his favorite dishes. I saved the bed for last.

By now, tears flooded my eyes. I knew there wasn’t nearly enough white foam to coat the whole bed. But I couldn’t walk away and leave it in one piece. The man had taken something from me that left me with a massive hole in my chest. How dare he take what we had and so callously ruin it.

I pressed the handle, but all that came out was a piddly amount of spray. I thought of taking a knife to his bed, but that seemed too easy. No, I wanted him to think everything was fine until he came to bed. Only then would he truly understand what he had done to me. I dug through everything in the apartment but could find nothing that would fill my needs.

I stood there for a good five minutes, pondering my next move, when it hit me. With an evil grin, I grabbed the poker fromthe fireplace and attacked the walls, making it look as though I just went into a jealous rage. I was sweating hard by the time I had finished destroying his walls.

I headed into the kitchen and grabbed my yellow dishwashing gloves and a pair of sunglasses sitting on the kitchen counter. I gathered small bits of insulation from the walls and took it into the bedroom, pulling back the sheets. There was no guarantee he’d sleep here, but if he did, he’d be in for a rude awakening. I rubbed the insulation back and forth over the bed, and only when I was satisfied that he would be well and truly fucked if he laid down did I remake the bed in pristine condition.

I almost left it at that, but then I spied his closet and grinned. Carefully removing each shirt, I scrubbed the insulation over the inside of the shirts, then replaced them on the hangers. Taking a deep, satisfied breath, I grinned and replaced the insulation in the wall. I didn’t have my things, but I sure as hell felt a lot better.

I groanedas I grabbed yet another glass of wine from Jeanie, who backed away like I was going to attack her. In reality, that might happen if I didn’t drown my sorrows with alcohol. I downed half the glass and closed my eyes, trying to block out the images of him sinking his cock inside his whore.

“I’m so stupid.”

“You are, but not for the reasons you think,” Jeanie said, taking a sip from her first glass of wine.

“You know, a good friend would get drunk alongside me and ignore the fact that I’ve already had half the alcohol in the state.”

She snatched the glass from me and held it out of my reach. “No, a good friend would remind you that you’re so much better than that prick. Why are you drinking so much? You’re lucky if you ask me.”

A tear slipped down my cheek, but I was too drunk to wipe it away. Why did life have to be so hard?

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