The message is convincing...but why didn't she call? Saying this through text is underwhelming. I can't really judge her voice to know if her words are sincere. I'm not sure if I forgive her 100%. The text swayed me. I'd say I'm halfway there. Maybe a few more days. I go to Twitter to post from my business account. I post five times a week for my fan base and social media presence. I'm in the mood to tease the NASA deal. I post: Take a guess? 🚀😈 

The typical response time is usually 3 to 5 seconds before interactions roll in. Heart and comments blink as numbers under the post. I usually don't read the responses but I do this time to see if any guesses are right. Will anyone figure out the space trip pods?

DDKing: Let me guess, you're taking the two-timing slut to space? #CutOutTheHart

(1 reply)

GinnyWest: Come on, dude, this post has nothing to do with her. At least comment in the right place 🙄

TysinB: New reverse engineer crafts???

I click off, knowing worse is to come. Two-timing slut? That must be what the news is calling Madi. I rarely keep up with tabloids...or let them sway me. But that was a two-timing move she did. I thought she was leaving me when Alonso told me she was with her ex. From the outside looking in, that's what it seemed like. 

It appeared as if Madi was using me. It almost makes me wonder if she truly wants to settle down...or if she wants a fantasy of being chased after. Of being pursued by two men. It makes me wonder if I fell too fast for her. Do I know her well enough? Now that I'm away from her, I can think clearly. Think without love goggles blinding my rationality. 

Is she really in love with me? Did I move too fast? Give too much? I was ready to propose. Ready to do something I never thought I would. I planned to be single all my life. Until the grave. Now, look at me. Fretting over a woman. A woman I'd love to make children with. 

I want to give Madi the child she dreams of. And then some. My ideal number of kids is three, same as my parents. I want to grow old with Madi and tell our crazy love story to our children till our last days. And let them know that love at first sight is real. 

But that's not likely now. I hope I'm wrong. Is it still possible? Can we get past this? I go back to her text to analyze. She said there's still a bond and claims it's not a romantic one. Can I trust that it's not? That it won't be in the future? Madison said she loves me, not him. I read the last sentence of the text:

I promise to do better and move on. Please forgive me.

I should call...but I don't want to do anything rash. I need more time to judge if this can work. If we can move past this. I click off the phone and walk to the rainy windows to stare off pensively. I still want her. I can't throw away all the investment...if I do, I'll go back to my playboy roots.

I'll revert to what she hates. What I hate now. Now that I know there's more than sex, I hate my old self. If only I had met Madi sooner. I would have seen women for more than pleasure vessels. She brought a new meaning into my life. A caring touch I never knew I had. A flaw in the metal man the business world shaped me to be. 

So many people think I have no heart despite my contribution to the world. Woman eater. User. Sex abuser. Addict. Sex fiend. Bed Devil. Casanova. I've been called everything under the sun. But these two months have ridden me of those labels. I can't go backwards. I need this relationship. I need Madison. She brings out the best in me...and gives me a reason to want more. Be more. I watch the light storm, wondering what she's doing right now.  

MADISON

I stare at the phone, unable to sleep. I can't. I want to know if Jace has forgiven me. I toss and turn in bed, wondering if we're over. Have I lost him? Was the apology not good enough? I should have called. Or left a voicemail. Maybe he felt the text was a cheap way of making up.

The dark phone doesn't light up. I wish it would. I need a sign of hope. A sign that my future isn't gone. That my dream isn't gone. I sit up in bed and claw my hands through my hair. My stomach knots. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, holding my abdomen. The tighter I hold it inward, the less it hurts.

I unlock my phone and eye the messenger. My text is the only one there. Jace hasn't sent anything. I sigh. "Please talk to me...please," I beg, wishing somehow, he'll hear and give in as he did before. If only my begging could work as it had on the jet...where we first kissed.

God, I miss his touch. His breathtaking eyes. How his hair falls into his face. How small I feel in his arms...as if I'm a little girl again. How safe he makes me feel. His smile...and charm. His warmth. Doesn't he miss me? It doesn't seem like it.

I force my eyes away from the phone and leave the bed, deciding to go to the kitchen to eat my emotions away. The fridge light is pure white and brightens the entire kitchen. I explore for something sweet. All I find are protein shakes, boxes of fruits and veggies, and loads of bottled water.

I open the drawers; inside are containers of eggs, coconut milk, and yogurt. I grab yogurt since it's the sweetest thing. I rip it open and yank a spoon from a wall unit of utensils. I scoop away, eating too fast, too fast to enjoy the pineapple flavor. I stare off...my mind wanders. What is he doing right now? Sleeping without a care? Or up late at night with a racing mind like me?

I finish the yogurt and toss the cup and spoon onto the counter. I search the refrigerator again. "I need chocolate!" I whine. A light shoots on from the other side of the kitchen. I walk from the refrigerator to see why. There's a pantry the size of a bedroom stocked with cans, powders, oils, and baking ingredients. My eagle eyes spot a tall bag of chocolate chips. I race to the bag and rip it open. I plop onto the floor and stuff my mouth. I eat hand full after hand full. I taste pure cocoa, but I don't revel in the flavor as I usually do.

I mindlessly fill my mouth until the pain in my stomach is replaced by fullness. I place the bag under my head and use it as a pillow. My gut is tight enough to put me to sleep. Once again, I dream of nothing. Does this mean I'm too sad to find happiness in my dreams? I just see blackness. My mind isn't at ease. It's still active. Shut down and go to sleep, mind! I shout subconsciously. I need to recharge. I need relief. At least the gut pain is gone.

I focus on my breathing so my thoughts can go away. In. Out. Deep and slow. Hold for five seconds and release. The sound of house shoes makes my eyes flutter open. The pantry light is still on. The glimmer of twilight seeps from outside the door.

My mom enters and sits beside me. The polka dot gown she wears reminds me of a 1950s housewife. "I see you found some chocolate."

I sit up, rubbing the side of my face that lies against the bags. "Yeah...I did."

"Did it help?"

"A little."

She frowns. "Maybe have some more. I would say don't spoil your breakfast, but this is an exception." I look ahead, not at anything in particular; my gaze is far away. "Talk to me." she says gently.

"I don't think I need to talk about it, since everyone else is. I'm sure the video is still on the news."

"If you can't decide which one you want, that's fine."

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know...I guess it's me doing things without thinking. I broke my word to Jace....now we're on a break."

Mom holds my hand tightly. "He'll come around. All you did was turn down your ex. I don't get why he's being so harsh."

"It was more than that..." I turn to face her. "I haven't told you everything about my ex. I was able to tell Lil and Jess...but I couldn't tell you."

"Why not?" I struggle to keep eye contact. I look at my hands to handle the tension. "Madison? What is it?"

"It wasn't a normal break-up with Brad...I left him because of how bad his anger got. I tried to hang on to see if it got better. But it just got worse."

"Did he hurt you?! Did he put his hands on you?!" Mom gets defensive.

"He tried to."

"What did he try to do? Look at me."

I gaze into her panicked eyes. "Don't tell dad."

"Answer me!" She orders.

I fight to keep my sight on her blue eyes. "It was near rape...I was quick enough to make him stop."

"Near rape??!! Why am I just finding out about this?!" she argues.

"I was too scared to tell you."

"You have to talk to me about things like this!"

"I know..."

"Why did you go to the park? Is it true he tried to attack you? Is it true that you went to the police station??" Mom gets flustered; her words tangle furiously.

"I was being too nice to him, that's why." I look away.

"Answer the other questions, Madison."

"He did try to attack me. Jace made me go to the station to press charges. I wish it was my choice. I should have done this a month ago."

"Yes, you should have! That's why the police are around to get rid of scumbags. I don't get why you would meet up with him; you could have gotten hurt! There are women who die because of situations like this! If you didn't have guards to protect you!"

"I know."

"You can't do things like that, Madison!" She scolds.

"I know."

"So why did you?" I try to think of a good enough reason, but I can't. If I tell her what I just told Jace, she'll go on criticizing me. So, I just shrug. "You have to know why." She gives a long sigh. I feel her hand move from mine. I glance at her, thinking I pissed her off. But she's not staring back at me. Mom looks at the doorway with a startled expression. I don't dare follow her line of vision. I already know who it is. There are only four people in this house. I doubt she's scared of Alonso hearing the conversation. Oh, no...dad heard. His face is blotched red, and his dark eyes are full of hostility. Uh oh...

Mom stands faster than I can blink. "Paul...? Relax, okay."

"How can you tell me to relax after what I just heard??!!" He roars.

"Let's not make this worse than it is."

"Don't try to downplay this!"

She shoots a glance my way. I sense her uneasiness. "Let's calm it down, dear." Her navy eyes rush back to his.

"You were able to yell, but I can't?!!!"

"I wasn't this harsh...the yelling is over with. Let's talk about this without shouting."

"No..." His hard eyes fall on me. I freeze in place out of fear. "How could you go back to the guy after what he did?!"

"It's...complicated," I answer in a hushed voice.

"No, it's not; it's common sense! I thought I taught you better than this!"

My gut throbs. My throat latches up. My eyes water. Mom paces to him with her hands up, as if he's a bear she must subdue. "Stop it, okay?! She knows it was an accident. Calm down."

"Why didn't you get the police involved? You waited until now until he almost assaulted you! Why would you do that?!"

I don't need to be yelled at over this again. I know it was a mindless thing to do. There's nothing I can do to fix it. Why can't he accept that it was an accident? Instead, he thinks less of me. Just like the media. Just like Jace. I get up from the floor, holding in a breakdown the best I can. I nearly run from the pantry, avoiding his wrathful eyes. His judging eyes. I can't breathe out of my throat; it snaps shut and aches. I can't swallow due to a lump. The tears that escape my eyes blur my vision.

"Look at what you did?!" my mom shouts. "That could have been handled better!"

"She needs to hear the truth, no matter how harsh it sounds!"

"You don't attack a victim, Paul! You just made it worse by not listening!"

I don't hear the rest of the argument once I close the bedroom door. Their words are nonexistent within the soundproof room. I'm glad for this. It means I can let it all out. The agony in my gut that I smothered with food is expelled. A spasm of sobs erupts from me. This crying is worse than any I've experienced in life. Worse than my loneliest nights. Worse than the hospital. Worse than Jace walking away...and my first breakup.  

I hate myself... I wail like a wounded child. I hate the past...and all the drama it has brought on. Especially this room. Why did I choose it? It's just reminding me of the mistake! I don't want to be in here anymore. Or in this house. I want my hotel room back. I want some normalcy, something to relieve me...something of my old life before everything became a wreck. But...no, I can't even go back to the hotel. That's where Brad released trauma upon me. The island isn't an option. I wish I had the jet so I could command it to take me far away. Or to just fly until it ran out of fuel. 

I don't want to be here. I sniffle uncontrollably. My eyes stream until they burn. I'm sure they're red. Mom calls my phone. I watch it ring on the bed. Just leave me alone. She judged me too...dad just was blunt about it. I remember Jess saying: "parents amplify shit..." It really was easier telling my girls...there was no judgment...no shouting at me over it. Or questioning me as if I wanted it to happen. As if I brought it on. I didn't choose to be a victim. No one does. It's a trap...a mental prison. A limbo that only a few escape. It's rare to break away. 

Stockholm syndrome is the definition of abuse. A captor holding you against your will, whether it's verbally, mentally, or physically. Only my captor is locked away...meaning I have broken the chains. I think that's why I was able to tell my mom. Because I knew I was safe from my ex. Jace saved me yet again from danger. I'm starting to understand why he commanded me to press charges. He made a choice I couldn't. I think his stance on this isn't just about my commitment.  

Dad said what I know Jace wanted to say: "why didn't you get the police involved?" I know that's what Jace is thinking. He's protective of me...just like my dad. So, the two are on the same page. I wonder if he's questioning my common sense as my father is? Probably. Jace is probably thinking I'm lacking cognitive abilities. That I'm not as mature. I'm not. If I find guys younger than me adolescent and unattractive, I'm sure Jace finds me to be the same. He'll find someone on his level...I wouldn't blame him. I'll just go into an endless silence for the rest of my life...and never try love again. Food could be my therapy...and sadness, my friend. 

My sniffling halts. My eyes deaden, I detach from reality. "Shower," I speak tonelessly. I need to bathe my body in cold water to numb my mind. It's best I start early, so I'll know how to stop feeling. How to surrender to life. Life keeps throwing me shitty obstacles. It must be for a reason. "Cold water."  

The jumbo shower head beads down. I take off the robe and walk under the freezing water. I shut my eyes, not shrieking, or jumping from the frosty touch. My mind goes mute; the shower is loud enough to remove me from the world. The icy liquid desensitizes me. I huff out mist as ice daggers hammer my body. Every inch of my body loses sensation...