The Sweet Taste Of Rejection

Chapter Five

The Sweet Taste Of Rejection
Nhica Moico
(Edited)

These lips are missing you
Cause these lips ain't kissing you
These eyes put up a fight
But once again these tears always win
These arms are wanting you
Cause these arms ain't holding you
These eyes put up a fight
But once again these tears always win

These candles
Light up my room at night
But they can't light the room they way you did
When you walked inside, oh baby

If these walls could sing
About everything they've witnessed
Oh it'd be a sad sad song
And it'll probably sound something like this

Alicia Keys, Tears Always Win

 

Chapter Five

                Betrayal was the knife that stabbed Jace relentlessly in the back. Amy held that knife and constantly twisted it until he was on his knees and gasping for air. And in the distance, like an angelic beacon, Adam and Jasmine Smith gurgled and giggled in the background. Jace took a chance to take it all in. Jace Johnson was the father of Adam and Jasmine Smith. They were Johnsons, not Smiths. Amy had kept this fiasco a secret from for two long, grueling years when he should have known. He deserved to know in the first place.

            The thought made Jace stagger backwards blindly, his subconscious catching him and preventing him from buckling his knees and collapsing onto the floor. He planted callused hand onto the cold cream wall; the grooves, cracks and rough hardness melding underneath his fingertips. For a second it shook him to the core, but he managed to get a grip of himself and steady his fingers as they shook and twitched uncontrollably. Never did he or would he lose control. A Johnson was never caught by surprise.

            Inhaling raggedly, Jace Johnson felt his cool, refreshing control slip from him like sand and he didn't know how he could grasp it again. How could he grip it in his long fingers and claim it once more, when everything had practically been ripped from him? Plenty of unwanted emotions surged towards him: anxiety, anger, dismay...

                He couldn't quite place what he was feeling inside. He was confused, petrified, and anger flooded him deeply; surging into him, writhing and wanting to be free. It wanted to make its way up to the surface and become insurgent, to rebel and be released like a mad howling wolf that wanted to reign hell.

            I was a father, not to just any kids; but to Adam and Jasmine.

            The surreality was hard and cold; wrapping around his mind like a snake. He was a father now. And there was no going back. But as he thought about it more, he realized that this wasn't how it was meant to happen. Sure, he could picture himself settling down one day in a picturesque setting--but happily married. With his second-future marriage a complete success. But then Amy etched her way into the picture, and he was forced to oblige to marrying his ex-wife to save the family business.

            And he had no choice but to deal with the consequences afterwards. He produced a contract for her; a contract that held his rules that implied he had expected her to follow them. But the lucid truth was, he didn't. He wanted her to be disobedient so he could toy with her emotions, abuse her being to the core, and still feel like he was bathing in the blood of control. But then, every aorta of that contract produced Amy followed. She was a trophy wife. And that disgusted him the most. But at the same time, guilt settled in him. He treated her as if he she were nothing to him, he degraded their marriage--but wasn't that the name of the game? At this point he was getting confused.