Forgive me

LAYLA

May 8th 2018

I'm sitting in my car, facing the club, drowning my lungs with a few shots of whisky. I raise the bottle and make a toast.

"Cheers to the endless supply of willys, ya torturous troll." There's a slight slur to my words. 

I look down at the photo sitting on the passengers' seat. The girl staring back at me with the twinkle in her eye is no more. The bastard with his arms wrapped around her is now six feet under. 

"Cheers to you Ryder, you lousy ride." I pour some of the whisky outside my open window, continuing to look at the picture, with my bottom lip trembling.

I refuse to cry over the asshole, he's had enough of my tears, and quite frankly he doesn't deserve them.

But I tell you what.

That greedy son of a bitch deserves to rot in his grave and burn in hell. My hand releases the whisky bottle,  it hits the concrete ground with a loud thud before it sends shards of glass shattering everywhere. I scream, banging my hands against the steering wheel, jumping up and down in my seat. 

"CRAAPP. CRAP. CRAP. CRRRAAAAPPP!" 

I scream until my lungs are sore and my throat is raw. I pick up the photo and start tearing it fueled by anger. When I can't tear it anymore, I throw it over my shoulder, covering my backseat and floor with an unwanted memory. I wipe my nose with the back of my shaking hands and chuckle like a mad man. I sigh loudly and stare towards the club again.  Just sitting there, in my seat, absentmindedly staring at the house of shame, the only place that hired me without judgement. 

Today marks the first anniversary, today will always be the one day out of the year I dread. The memory of that night is still clear as day. 

Ryder and I had been fighting for weeks after I found he had been gambling again. We were broke like broke, broke. On the verge of losing everything, we worked so hard for. We both had really good jobs in real estate. We sold houses and the commission was something that gave us that extra little push, driving us to be the best of the best. And we were at one stage, we lived a luxurious life for two whole years before everything came tumbling down, and crashing on top of us.

The police were at our door, fists pounding over and over like the door was unbreakable. The hinges shook and dust fell from the frame. 

"What the fuck is going on?"

My eyes frantically looking at Ryder, then the police, and back at Ryder. 

" Layla Marie Slater?" The officer asked me.

"Yes." I pulled my robe tightly, tying the waist belt. 

"I'm detective Cameron Armstrong, and we have a warrant to search your house." He takes in his surroundings before he hands me the piece of paper. 

I rudely snatch it from him, hoping and praying they've been mistaken. My eyes quickly scan over the printed words, the date and the signature. A low sob leaves my mouth, I try to conceal it by covering it with my hand, tears fall from my eyes, down my cheeks, and my heart breaks. I stare at Ryder, hoping he will try to at least defend himself.

Nothing, he says nothing, but his eyes are heavy on mine, and he stands there looking like a child who's just been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

The idiot was no damn child though! 

I straighten to my full height, stepping forward, raising the paper in my hand, waving it in front of his face. 

"What the FUCK is this?" I cry. "What the FUCK have you done RYDER!" I throw the piece of paper at him. 

Agents walk into OUR house, they start going through OUR things, taking OUR laptops, all of OUR digital devices, USBs and walking out the door with their arms wrapped around cardboard boxes. 

"What do you want me to say La?" His face shows no emotion. 

"Child pornography." I spit out, slapping his face as hard as I can.

"It wasn't for my pleasure." His eyes shift towards the detective.

"But it WAS for someone's, right?" I push his chest, clawing at his shirt, wanting to rip his heart out. 

The detective grabs both my arms and pulls me away from him kicking and screaming. 

"You're vile!" I scream, crying. "Get him out of my house, I want that bastard removed from my house." I looked Detective Armstrong in the eye, pleading. 

Ryder turned around, placed his hands behind his back, giving the officer permission to cuff him, without a fight. When the officer places the cuffs around his wrists and tightens them, he turns Ryder to face me.

Looking at the ground he silently says. "I'm sorry La. But the money was too good to pass up." 

I chuckle feeling repulsed. "What money Ryder? I never saw a cent." 

"Where do you think your ring came from?" He looks at my finger, placing the ring on full display, the engagement ring he gave me two months ago.

I slide the ring off and throw it at him, watching as it bounces off his chest, and hits the tiled floors with a ting.

"Do you know you've ruined those darling children for life? You've stolen something that never belonged to you, something they'll never get the chance to give to another." My voice is filled with sorrow. 

"Yes." That is all he says before he nods at the officer, who then leads him outside to the parked patrol car. 

"Close the door on your way out please." I turn from Armstrong and take the flight stairs to my room. 

The man I thought I wanted to marry and have children with, was a predator. The man I was sleeping next to every night, making love to regularly. Was dead to me. My whole life fell apart that day. The real estate agent let us both go the moment the police showed up to their building confiscating the computers and hard drives. I didn't bother to protest, things would've never been the same there again. The lawyer took out a second mortgage on our house for Ryder's bail. 

Ryder showed up on the doorstep the next night. 

"LAAAAA!!." He called out. 

"LAAAAA let me in, I have nowhere else to go." He started banging on the door. 

I stood on the other side of the door refusing to let him in. "Fuck off Ryder, you're meant to be at your parents, via your bail terms."I impatiently say. 

"I don't want to be there. I want to be here with you my La, la,la-lee-pop." He sings his sad excuse of a pet name he had for me. 

"Get gone Ryder before I call the police," I growl through the door. 

"I can't go to jail La. They'll eat me alive." I can hear the fear in his voice. 

"I think it's you who will be doing the eating in there Ryder." I correct him. 

He bangs on the door again, harder this time.

"You know what I mean La." A soft sob erupts from him. 

"Don't you think you deserve it? All those innocent fucking boys Ryder. Do you think they liked being objectified, liked being touched for the camera, not knowing if it was right or wrong to feel the way they did?" Tears run down my face, and I slam my hand against the door.

"They were only babies! Six fucking years old!" I slam my hand against the door again, a sharp pain runs up my wrist. 

"I only did it for the money." He cries out.

"We didn't need the money, you just needed to stop gambling." 

"I wanted to give you a better life." He mumbles. "I wanted to give you the world." 

"You brought our lives with tainted money, rape money! You placed a fucking twelve thousand dollar ring on my finger with rape money. MY FINGER! MYYYYY FINGER!" I scream at the top of my lungs. 

"I'm sorry La." He sniffles. 

"I don't want your sorries. They don't belong to me, Ryder." I sneer. 

"I love you, Layla." He states. 

"You're love never belonged to me.  Your love belonged to your gambling addiction. I just never thought we would end up here, like this " I wipe my face, with angry hands. 

"Just always know there was never anybody else.  It was always you. It will always be you. I'm sorry, don't hate me forever."

The sound of a gun cocks on the other side of the door, I quickly unlock the door, removing the chain, and yank it open. 

Ryder's standing on the doorstep with the gun to his head, his finger on the trigger, and his eyes on mine. 

"Forgive me." He says right before he pulls the trigger. 

"NOOOOOO!!!!!" I Scream.

As I watch his lifeless body fall to the ground in front of me. The memory of this night will always be ingrained in the back of my head, an unwelcomed vision of the man I once loved, killing himself right before me.