Page 67 of Shattered Saint
I knew what I needed, and I needed it now.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to find a text from him.
Easton: I'm sorry for all of this, but I’m not giving up on this without a fight.
I stared at the message, anger winning the emotional war going on inside me. He had some nerve texting me right now. My fingers flew across the screen, and I pressed send before I could second guess myself.
Me: Don't contact me again.
I turned off my phone, preventing Easton from contacting me for the time being. All of this was such bullshit.
The drive home passed in a blur. By the time I reached my apartment, exhaustion had settled into my bones. But there was something I still wanted to do, and I wouldn’t be denied.
I unlocked the front door of my apartment and immediately made my way to the liquor cart. I needed to numb everything I was feeling.
With trembling hands, I grabbed a bottle of vodka and debated whether it was worth it to grab a glass. I quickly decided a glass wasn’t necessary and unscrewed the top before putting the bottle up to my lips. The familiar burn of the alcohol slid down my throat, bringing with it instant relief from the pain.
Another swig of vodka went down even smoother. A warm buzz spread through my body, loosening everything.
What was I thinking? How could I have been so stupid?
I walked over to my couch and kicked off my shoes. I took another gulp of my liquor of choice and the room started to spin.
"You're fucking worthless,” I yelled to no one but myself. "No one will ever want you."
I cried as my thoughts drifted to what Easton had told me. Not only did I have to deal with the betrayal from him, but from my own brother as well.
Anger took over every thought I had. I took another long pull. Darkness was starting to take control, and the alcohol was doing its best to push away everything that hurt.
I could escape from all of this. It was that easy.
When I couldn’t keep a firm grip on the bottle anymore, I managed to place it on my coffee table in front of me. What I couldn’t save was myself as I slowly fell off the couch and onto the floor. The world spun even more, and I wasn’t sure what was up and what was down.
Was this real? Had tonight really happened?
The last thing I remembered before everything faded to black, was curling up in a ball and crying.
28
BIANCA
The soft sounds of a string quartet filtered through my home as I stood in the corner of the foyer staring at my phone. I should have been talking to our guests, but something else had drawn my attention. This time, however, it was our sound system playing the music versus my mother hiring someone.
I hated that my thoughts revolved around Easton. No matter how much I’d tried to distract myself with other things, my brain refused to completely focus on anything. I still didn’t know how to feel other than angry at him and my brother. I’d been avoiding them both since I found out the truth.
I was busy waiting for Iris to contact me. Yesterday, I’d helped her get ready for a ball at the Chevalier Manor, but I hadn’t heard from her since. If I didn’t hear from her soon, I would drive over to Westwick to see if I could find her there.
How I managed to pull myself together to be able to go over to her dorm and help her get ready for her party after the drunken night I’d had was a miracle. It had been a difficult several days, but I managed to pull myself together enough to help her and attend this small get together at my parents’ home. It was convenient that Nash wasn’t here tonight, because if he was, I probably would have cursed him out.
Suddenly my phone began to vibrate and jolted me out of my thoughts. My heart began to race as I picked up the phone expecting it to be Iris. But the only thing on my screen was an unknown number. I bit my lip as I realized this was probably some kind of spam call, not Iris trying to contact me.
I looked up and the chandelier I always loved was shining bright. Too bad I didn’t feel the same brightness because I was stressed about Iris and angry about Easton and Nash. Everything was fine, or so I was telling myself.
My phone vibrated again, and I wondered if someone else was calling. This time it was a text.
Unknown Number: Our game begins now.
"Bianca, I would like to talk to you in my office."
