Ego's Trap | ✔

38 | Ane's Fine

☆☆☆ Chapter 38 ☆☆☆

Ane's Fine

*Ane's Point of View (POV)*

Daniel walked out as if nothing had happened. As if he didn't just reject me. Daniel, out of all people, rejected me. Daniel, my fuckin' pervert of a boyfriend who's been crystal clear to me 'bout his desires, rejected me. After a ton of petty fights over the months we've been together── and even before then, as his maid── 'bout his overly-charged self, 'bout his weak self-restraint, 'bout his staring, he rejected me.

Just who the hell does he think he is! I'm fine, why the hell did he think I wasn't ready? Who the hell is he to judge?!

After I dared to peek out of my shell, after I was finally comfortable, after I thought that we were both into it, he rejected me.

I felt tears burn my eyes, heat rush up my face, my throat swell up. There were too many things building up within me, boiling over, causing me nothing but pain. I tried shielding my heart from it, but I was far too weak for that. I was afraid, though. I didn't know if my pain would burn it to ashes, or make it bleed out. Either way, it wouldn't end well.

I put my head down, covering it with my elbow as I stormed out of the room. My hands trembled, and the hairs on my arms cut through the lukewarm air. I passed by a couple of servants. They all tried to stop me, they all tried to ask what was wrong, but I ignored them all, shoving them when necessary, and cursed some out. One of them was Honey. I made sure to make her feel small, make her feel useless. It didn't make me feel any better. I knew I would be hearing from Teresa for that, too, but I didn't give two shits as it happened. All I felt was pain.

As soon as I found myself within the walls of my bedroom, I curled up on one of my now-bleached bean bags, and let myself cry like a motherfucker 'til I realized it wasn't enough to calm myself down. Throwing that bean bag across the room, now that was another story. I threw my other ones across the room, too, and kicked the living fucklights out of 'em, cursed them and their mothers out, choked their non-existent necks, stabbed 'em with my trusty knife 'til beans bled out of 'em. I picked up some of the beans, and forced them back into one of the stupid bags, throwing spit into it in a ridiculous form of fury, and kicked and kicked and kicked, following the bag wherever it went as it bled out, not giving it a single second to breathe, to the point where all I was kickin' was nothing but cloth.

In doing that, I found a stray bloodstain in a corner I hadn't paid much attention to.

It was Jade's, without a doubt.

So many things ached after I spotted it. Everything burned far more worse, and once again I was back at square one, cryin' like the broken idiot I was. This time, I cried 'til it hurt, 'til every single tear cut straight through me.

I already knew before, but fuck damn, I'm one fucked-up person.

☆☆☆

A shower. A hot, steamy shower helped me out on clearing my mind, but not the way I had thought it would. I felt hollow, empty.

With a towel wrapped around me, I stepped out of the bathroom, and found myself making eye contact with my own self. There Ane stood, hunched, with her puffy, dark, beady eyes and her wide, uneven lips shut tight. She looked as if she were grimacing. Her knees trembled just slightly. Occasionally, I noticed her nostrils flare up, like those of a semi-triggered gorilla's. Did that mean I was still angry? Sad? I was confused; I didn't feel anything, so why was she looking back at me that way?

Was the mirror lying to me, or am I lying to myself?

I approached the other Ane, and she did the same. We stared at each other, wondering what the other was thinking. I reached over to her, and she reached over to me, but all I felt was the stiffness of the mirror. I couldn't touch her, I couldn't console her. She couldn't do anything for me, either.