Chapter 4: A walking disaster

~CLAIRE~

I found it hard to breathe as I watched the man I love being intimate with another woman.

They were so engrossed, they didn't notice my presence. It made me sick!

"JASON!" I screamed.

He looked up, surprised to see me standing there. He gently pushed the woman aside and got up. Grabbing a towel, he wrapped it around his waist.

He didn't show the slightest sign of remorse or guilt.

The woman on the other hand didn't make any attempt to shield her body. She stared back at me calmly, a small smile playing around her lips.

There was something very familiar about her. That blonde hair...

I realized it suddenly. She was the bartender who served me the tequila shots and the bottle of Martini!

"You." I whispered, but before I could attack her, Jason stepped in front of me.

"Where have you been, Claire?" He muttered.

I was taken aback for a moment. He was acting so casual, like I didn't just catch him being unfaithful with another woman.

"What?" I whispered.

"Where the hell have you been?" He repeated, his voice getting sharper.

"Are you really asking me that?" I frowned. "After what you just did? You cheated on me."

He gripped my jaw suddenly and turned my face to the side. His ocean blue eyes, the same eyes that made me fall for him, scrutinized me silently, filled with scorn. He had never looked at me that way.

"You stupid bitch." He snarled. "Who did you sleep with?"

My heart jolted in terror. He knew. I didn't know how, but he knew I had sx with someone that night.

I thought of lying. I could tell him I was at the bar, waiting for him. He would believe me.

But his next words shattered that hope.

"Your lipstick is smeared, Claire." He continued cruelly. "Who did you sleep with?"

He pushed me away from him and I stumbled backwards, ashamed to look him in the eye.

From the bed, the bartender smiled smugly, clearly enjoying the scene.

Then Jason's eyes lowered to my neck, and the anger in his eyes heightened.

"What is that?" He moved closer to me and forcefully turned my head to the side. I knew what he was about to say before he even spoke it.

“Love bites? Are those love bites? How many men did you give yourself to tonight, Claire?"

"Jason it's not what you think..."

"How many?" He yelled. "How many times did they use you? Is this why you wanted to stay at the bar? To offer yourself to them?"

I started to cry. "That's not true. It was a mistake. I–I got drunk and..."

"Don't bloody lie to me." He snapped.

I flinched, crying loudly, unable to say a word. It hurt me so much to see him glaring at me with such venom.

Jason was the only person I looked up to. My confidence depended on him. But with the way he stared at me now, I felt useless. I didn't even have the heart to bring up his cheating.

I didn't want to lose him.

"Please, baby." I held his face and tried to kiss him, but he moved his face away. "I'll explain what happened. Please don't be mad. It was all a big misunderstanding."

I expected him to pull me close and kiss me, and tell me he believed me.

But to my surprise, he laughed. A mocking, cruel laughter.

I looked over to the waitress. Her eyes were scornful as she lit a ci-gar and blew out a steady stream of smo-ke.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

Jason looked at me, and I clearly saw the shift in his eyes. His gaze went from scornful to disgust in the space of a few seconds.

"You naive, gullible girl." He began. "So trusting, so desperate for love. Did you really think I would end up with you?"

My heart skipped a beat. "What are you talking about?"

"Try to keep up, Claire." He continued. "Did you really think I would end up with a girl as plain as you? I mean, look at yourself. Red hair, nerdy bangs, glasses, and those bloody freckles. You're a walking disaster."

The words struck me, but I tried to overlook it.

"Jason, where is this coming from?" I asked in a shaky voice. "You told me I was beautiful, that you loved me."

"And you believed him?" The bartender laughed mockingly from the bed. "You were right, Jason. She's so easy to fool."

The colour drained from my face. All those times Jason told me he loved the way I looked, all those times he made me feel beautiful, they were all a lie?

"You deceived me." I whispered. "All this time, you never loved me."

"Do you really think anyone can love you, Claire?" Jason retorted cruelly. "Look at you. Ug-ly and unfashionable. God, I totally despised you. It was so hard pretending not to."

My heart shattered. I couldn't take any more of his cruel words. I could barely see through the tears blinding my eyes. I've been hurt before, but this tops the list.

"It's over between us." I whispered. "I don't want to see you ever again."

Jason's mocking laughter rang out. "It's been over for a long time, Claire. You were just too blind to see it."

I ran.

Without a backward glance, I ran out of the suite. As I turned to leave, my gaze caught a tall man standing at the end of the hallway — the stranger from last night.

His eyes widened slightly, and shame flooded through me. I quickly looked away and hurried off before he could say anything.

I didn't know exactly where I was going. I just wanted to get away from here.

Tears blurred my vision and I wiped them off angrily, yet they kept coming. I couldn't believe how much of a fool I was.

I should have seen the signs, but I loved Jason too much. I loved him wholeheartedly, and after everything, this was how he treated me.

Tired of running, I collapsed to the floor in the passage. My throat hurt with all the pain and hurt. I pulled my legs up, buried my face between my legs and cried heavily.

I don't know how long I remained there, sobbing quietly. Suddenly a door opened and I shot upright.

An elderly looking man, probably in his late sixties, stepped out of his suite and glanced at me. He had to be some sort of janitor.

"What are you doing out here all alone? Did someone hurt you?" He wondered. He sounded kind, and he had a clear American accent.

Before I realized it, I was telling him the entire story of how Jason hurt me.

"That's a terrible thing for anyone to do." He murmured. "I'm sorry you had to experience something so hurtful."

I sniffed and tried to smile. "Thank you."

"What's your name, child?"

"Claire." I answered. "Claire Ashton."

"Do you have a place to sleep, Claire?"

I shook my head. "I don't. But I'll be fine."

"Oh, nonsense." The kind man said. "It's a cold night. My conscience won't let me leave you out here all alone. Why don't you come in and stay for the night? It's safer for you."

My heart melted and I smiled. "That's very kind of you, Sir."

He stepped aside as I walked into the room. I realized then that it wasn't a suite. It was some sort of studio. A styling studio.

Several mannequins lined the walls, some clothed, others unclothed. The studio had a soft warm light, and it was blissfully warm.

I lowered into a sofa, hugging my arms to myself.

"Sorry about the mess." He chuckled.

"Oh it's okay." I laughed. "It's perfect actually."

"Will you be okay all by yourself? Do you need anything?"

"I'll be fine. And thank you, again. I'm really grateful for your help."

The old man waved my gratitude aside. As he walked towards the door, he paused and turned.

"The Pentagon's diamond." He murmured. "That's a very beautiful ring, Claire. A classic."

Before I could reply, he walked out of the studio and quietly shut the door.

I looked down at my hand, realizing that I still had the stranger's engagement ring. I dreaded running into him the next day, but I had to return it. I didn't even know his name.

I sighed softly and stretched out on the sofa. The moment my head touched the armrest, I fell into a tired sleep.