Page 158 of Bewitched By the Sea Monster
But now I saw the ugly truth.
I hadn’t hurthim.Not his heart or his soul.
Just his pride.
A broken heart he might’ve endured. But he wielded his fractured ego as a weapon. He was lashing out, blaming an innocent creature for taking me away, rather than accepting the fact that I didn’t want to be with him anymore.
What amonster.
I cursed at the Pippi I’d been—the Pippi who’d tolerated his bullshit for years and called it “love.”But I also mourned for that Pippi who’d wasted her heart and a precious chunk of her life on a terrible man.
He won’t do anything to Alistair.
He can’t.I wished I believed it.
Time trickled by. An hour. Maybe more—impossible to say, while swaddled in the dark of the bathroom, watching the candlelight gyrate on the walls.
Magicalcandles. They lit as soon as someone entered the room and burned until they left.
For a while, I distracted myself by trying to snuff the flames out. Blowing on them. Squirting water over them. Even squishing some of my makeup tins over them.
The magical flames continued their merry dance, never missing a beat.
After that,I sat and cried for a while, until a manic fervor sent me pacing and punching at the door again.
Nothing helped. I wasn’t strong enough to bust down the door. Whatever Jackson had barricaded against it refused to budge.
I tried, though. Until my body ached and my head spun. Then I leaned over the sink, watching as my shadowed reflection bounced and swayed unsteadily before my eyes, wondering if the tingling feeling in my face and stomach was a precursor to fainting or puking.
“He has her…bathroom…”
My head whipped to the door when a voice I recognized snaked underneath.“Marvin?”
“You’ll have to move the table,” Marvin the cat drolled. “It’s heavy.”
“It should slide. We’ll scuff the floors, though.”
“Fuck the floors. They can take it out of lover boy’s deposit.”
I recognized those voices too.
Melany and Sarah.
Relief flooded me as I staggered forward, knocking my bloody knuckles against the door. “Help!”
“Hold on, girl,” Sarah called.
“We’re coming!” Melany added.
Heavy thunks and knocks rattled the door. I took a step back. Waiting. Jittering. Twisting my knuckles until they ached.
“That should do it!”
With a softclick, the door swung open.
I bolted. Zooming past Melany and Sarah. Past Marvin. Stopping only once I reached the cottage’s front door. It took me severalpainfulseconds, whacking my bleeding, shaking hands on the handle, before I was able to open it. Then I was outside, in the dull pallor of a foggy morning. Breathing the salty air. Feeling the tickle of the tepid breeze against my cheeks.
I braced my hands on my knees and focused on breathing—on keeping myself conscious.
