Cursed Man

Shattered like a fragile glass doll thrown from a towering height, I slumped into Sarah's car before she revved up the engine. I felt utterly broken, a sensation I never fathomed experiencing. Leaving my parents' house was one thing, but doing it through a window, the way I did today, was beyond any scenario I had envisioned.

I couldn't comprehend how I mustered the courage for such an act. The only recollection was the relentless pace of my escape; I hadn't paused or glanced back. It felt as if a pack of mad dogs were chasing me, and by the time I settled into Sarah's car, my heart raced like a wild horse within my chest, threatening to burst free.

"Have some water," Sarah offered, extending a bottle toward me.

I accepted it with trembling hands. My fingers shook uncontrollably, my breathing was erratic, and before I knew it, tears streamed down my face. I started crying, burying my face in my hands, releasing the pent-up emotions.

Sarah drove on, silent and steadfast. She didn't attempt to offer words of comfort. I wept unabatedly until we were halfway there, and slowly, my heart began to feel lighter.

Every decision I had made in my life haunted me with regret. I longed for my parents, feeling helpless in the knowledge that I couldn't seek refuge at their doorstep in this difficult time. I had to bear the weight of it all alone, the consequence of my impulsive and immature choices.

Twisting the cap of the water bottle, I brought it to my lips, allowing the cool liquid to soothe my parched throat.

"Feeling better now?" Sarah inquired, breaking the silence.

"Yep," I mumbled in response.

"Don't try to contact that treacherous man again," Sarah advised, her tone harsh.

I glanced at her while she focused on the road. Her comment didn't frustrate me; instead, it left me feeling humiliated, disgraced, and cheated once more. I had been so easily fooled, tricked, and deceived. How had I failed to recognize his true nature?

The roads were relatively busy with minimal traffic, owing to the early morning hour. Shops remained closed, and people still lingered under their blankets, wrapped in the embrace of their loved ones. Memories flooded my mind, recalling the nights I had spent enveloped in the warmth of his arms.

Suddenly, the waves of reminiscence were disrupted by the vibration of my phone resting in my lap. I winced as I opened my eyes, trying to dispel the words that had popped up on the screen.

It was Dillon calling me. I wished he had already read my letter; I hoped he wouldn't call right now. I couldn't bear the thought of his toxic voice filling my ears and piercing through whatever fragments of my heart remained. With a thumb dampened by tears, I slid it over the screen, rejecting his call and promptly blocking his number. I had no desire to maintain any contact with him.

Closing my eyes, I silently prayed that he wouldn't search for me and could have a peaceful and ideal life with the girl soon to become the mother of his child.

"Who's that?" Sarah inquired, narrowing her eyes at me.

I pursed my lips before whispering, "Dillon."

"How dare he call you now. Oh, he might be calling to mourn over his own loss, dusting his hands from your property and wealth," she huffed.

I turned my head towards the window, fixing my gaze on the passing scenery. Tall, gray, blue mirrored buildings reflected my own image. Faces seemed to laugh at me, pointing fingers, judging.

'Oh, see there, the fool of the century is going there.'

HA HA HA...

Their laughter echoed in my ears, and I instinctively covered them with my hands to shield myself.

"She's a fool," a woman remarked, pointing at me, while her companion laughed.

The world seemed to be laughing at me. Everywhere we went, at every turn, people gathered in groups, gossiping, pointing fingers, and finding amusement in my presence.

"Stop it!" I shouted, attempting to drown out the mocking voices as I covered my ears with my hands.

Sarah pressed the brake at the side of the road and turned towards me. "Relax, Grace," she said, soothingly stroking my back. "Nothing happened. It's okay. Stop crying," she urged.

I couldn't bring myself to listen. I continued to weep, feeling the weight of judgment and humiliation pressing down on me.

We arrived at Sarah's house, where her mom welcomed us. She offered words of comfort and guided us upstairs.

"Grace," Sarah spoke softly.

"Hmm," I hummed in response.

"Try to sleep," she suggested, her hand resting on my shoulders.

"I'm trying," I mumbled, but the walls around me felt as if they were closing in. I became uncomfortable in my own skin.

Desperation overcame me, and I shouted, "Mama! Mama! Mama! Dad!"

That's when Sarah tucked a sleeping pill between my teeth and forced it down my throat. With all the regrets festering in my heart and the echoes of shaming voices haunting me in public spaces, on the roads, and within the confines of the house, I succumbed to sleep.

Sarah adjusted my body on the bed, covered me with a white blanket, and then everything faded away. Between the curtains of black and white, my world of fantasies bloomed like a fresh rose adorned with glistening dewdrops, only to be crushed by the harsh touch of a monster roaming in the garden, seeking to steal its glow.

I awoke to an unknown duration of slumber, finding the world outside draped in the evening's dusky veil. The sun had long retired behind the horizon, leaving the sky to mourn its absence.

Slipping my legs into my shoes, I approached the door and slid it open. As it parted slightly, a torrent of harsh, loud, and quarrelsome voices swept in, immediately blocking my path. Clutching the door's hinges, the words carried within stabbed through me, creating a warzone downstairs. I bore witness to the destruction from a distance, feeling every bullet they fired pierce through my body, sparing no inch of me.

My body swung away from the door, colliding with the opposite wall. Blood seeped from every wound they had inflicted, and the sensation of impending demise enveloped me. Every breath felt like a fading ember in the encroaching darkness, and the sole vision before me was his, as my mouth cursed him as if it were my last. I was dying, life evaporating from my body, and my soul seemed to mock my futile struggles. Attempting to cry, tears were thwarted on their journey to my eyes.

My throat, tortured and constricted, felt like a hellish inferno. I was dying. Life slipped away through my being, and my desperate attempts to cry out were stifled.

I cursed, not him this time, but myself for placing trust in a man like him. As the shadows of death closed in, I vowed never to trust any man in my next life.

The world plunged into darkness, an eerie and ghostly void, as another metaphorical bullet found its mark in my heart. Then, I was dead. My body lay alone, slumped against the wall opposite the door – lifeless, helpless, and devoid of any flicker of existence.