2. A Loud Slap

Anne looked at the message for a long time before getting up and leaving the restaurant.

She knew where Hannah lived. It was the biggest apartment in the best area with the expensive view that her dad paid for. She was halfway there when it started to rain. At first, it was only a light drizzle, but then it got worse. 

The windshield wipers couldn't keep up, but she didn't care. She just sped up. She finally got outside of Hannah's building. She went straight to the elevator after she found a place to park.

“Miss you can't go in there!”

“Stop, miss!”

The doorman tried to stop her but she walked past him. Coming face to face to the door she knocked so hard her knuckles threatened to crack and after a few seconds it opened up.

Donald stood there with his shirt wrinkled up. His eyes went wide when he saw her.

"Anne? What are you…"

"Move!" Anne said.

She pushed past him into the apartment.

Hannah was on the couch. She was still in those pajamas from the photo. Her hair was down. She looked up when Anne walked in.

"Anne," Hannah said softly. "You're soaking wet."

"Don't," Anne said. Her voice was shaking. "Don't talk to me like we're friends!"

Donald closed the door. "Anne, you need to calm down."

"Calm down?!" Anne turned to him. "You left me at a restaurant on my birthday to take care of her?"

"She wasn't feeling well," Donald said.

"She sent me a photo of you two together while I was sitting alone waiting for you!"

Hannah stood up slowly. "I was just trying to apologize…"

"I said don't talk to me." Anne's hands were fists at her sides.

"Anne, you're being unreasonable," Donald said. He stepped between them. "Hannah was sick. I couldn't just leave her alone."

"But you could leave me alone."

"That's different."

"How?" Anne's voice broke. "How is it different?"

Donald ran his hand through his hair. He looked tired and frustrated like she was the problem.

"Because Hannah needed me," he said.

"And I don't?" Anne whispered.

Donald didn't answer.

Hannah moved closer. She put her hand on Donald's arm. "Maybe we should all just take a breath and…"

"Shut the fuck up, Hannah!"

The room went silent.

Hannah's eyes went wide. Her mouth opened in shock.

"Anne!" Donald's voice was sharp. "That's completely out of line."

"Out of line?" Anne laughed. "She ruined my birthday. She sent me a picture of you holding her hand while I was alone and you think I'm out of line?"

"You're being crazy," Donald said. "And insensitive. Hannah is going through something and you're making this all about you."

"She's always going through something," Anne said. "And you always choose her."

"Because she actually needs help," Donald shot back. "You're just throwing a tantrum over a dinner."

Hannah stepped forward. She reached for Anne's hand. "Anne, please. I know you're upset but…"

Anne pulled her hand back gently. Just a small movement. Barely anything.

But Hannah stumbled backward like Anne had shoved her with both hands.

"Ah!" Hannah cried out. She grabbed the edge of the couch. "Anne, please!"

"What?" Anne stared. "I barely touched you."

"You pushed her again?," Donald said. His voice is a mix of shock and pure anger.

"I didn't push her. I moved my hand away."

"I saw you," Donald said.

"She's faking," Anne said. "She does this every time. Can't you see…"

The slap came out of nowhere.

Donald's palm connected with Anne's cheek. The sound echoed in the apartment.

Everything stopped.

Anne's head had turned from the force. Her cheek was burning. Her ear was ringing.

She touched her face slowly. Like she couldn't believe it was real.

"Anne…" Donald's voice changed. "I didn't mean… I'm sorry, I just…"

Anne looked at him.

Donald took a step back. "You were getting hysterical… I was trying to snap you out of it. I'm sorry…I shouldn't have…"

Anne's hand moved before she could think.

The slap she gave him was harder than his. Even louder than his. Her palm stung from the impact.

Donald stumbled back, holding his face.

"Anne!" Hannah screamed.

Anne walked to the side table. There were three vases on it which looked expensive as hell. They were probably gifts from her father.

She picked up the first one and threw it on the floor and it shattered helplessly.

"Anne, stop!" Donald shouted.

She threw the second one. Glass exploded across the white tiles.

"This is what crazy looks like," Anne said. Her voice was very calm now.

She threw the third vase. It hit the wall and broke into a hundred pieces.

Hannah was crying whilst Donald was frozen…so shocked by her outburst.

Anne walked to the door. Her shoes crunched on broken glass.

"Don't ever touch me again," she said as she walked out.

******

The rain was worse now.

Anne stood outside Hannah's building and the water came down heavily. Within seconds she was drenched. Her dress clung to her skin. Her hair stuck to her face.

She started walking aimlessly not even caring that she drove here.

She didn't know where she was going. She just needed to move. To get away from everything.

Her chest hurt. Her cheek still burned. Her hand throbbed from the slap.

She was crying but the rain washed it away.

How did it come to this? When did she become this person? The one crying in the rain. The one who got hit by her own fiancé.

They have been engaged for three good years where she had been nothing but the best to him. 

And for what?

She made him the centre of her universe but he made Hannah the centre of his. Hannah was his white untouchable moonlight while she was the available and replaceable light bulb.

Anne's legs were tired and her feet hurt so bad but she didn't care 

She walked for twenty minutes before she recognized the street. She was close to her apartment. The one she'd kept even after getting engaged. Donald didn't know about it because he never asked where she lived before.

Anne reached her building. She went to the door.

Then she reached for her purse. It wasn't there.

Anne looked down at her empty hands. No purse. No phone. No keys. 

She'd left it at the restaurant. She had been in a daze that she didn't realise it.

"No," she whispered. "No, no, no."

She tried the door anyway but it was firmly locked. She banged and banged on it like a crazy woman but it didn't move.

Anne sank down against the wall. She put her head in her hands.

And she yelled very loudly. She screamed from the bottom of her heart. The loud screech let out all of her anger, frustration, and exhaustion, as well as three years of holding back words she should have said.

She screamed until her throat hurt.

Then she cried. She cried until she had nothing left.

The rain kept falling without mercy. Finally she stands up. Her legs shook but she pushed them to move.

There was a hotel two blocks away. She could explain the situation. They would understand.

Anne looked like a wet, homeless cat when she got to the lobby. She was shivering and her teeth were chattering. The hotel room was warm, which her body liked.

She stood in the entrance dripping water on the floor. The receptionist looked up and her smile faded.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked. Her tone said she didn't want to help.

"I need a room," Anne said. "I lost my purse and I can't get into my apartment. Just for tonight. I can pay you back tomorrow when…"

"We require payment upfront," the receptionist said. "And identification."

"I know. I'm explaining that I don't have it right now but…"

"Then I can't help you."

"Please," Anne said. "I just need somewhere to sleep. I'll give you double tomorrow…triple… I just…"

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"I'm not trying to…"

The receptionist pressed a button. A security guard appeared from the side door.

"Escort her out," the receptionist said.

"Wait," Anne said. "Just listen…"

The guard grabbed her arm roughly.

"Let go of me!" She says sharply.

Instead of listening, he pulled her harder toward the door. Anne tried to pull back but she was too tired. 

The guard pushed her toward the exit.

Anne stumbled forward slamming into something solid. She realized it wasn't something but someone.

She looked up to see a tall man who she had to tilt her head back to see his face.

He was handsome. He had brown hair with a small silver streak that was visible. His jaw was as sharp as his expensive suit that somehow wasn't wrinkled despite the rain.

But it was his eyes that made her speechless. They were blue with deep golden rings that sucked her in. 

"I'm sorry," Anne said, automatically stepping back.

The guard was still holding her arm.

The man looked at the guard. He didn't say anything. He just looked and the guard let go immediately.

The man turned to the receptionist. "Give her a room."

"Sir, she doesn't have…"

"Put it on my account," the man said in a way that said he was not to be messed with. 

The receptionist's face changed. "Of course, Mr. Volkov. Right away."

Anne's breath caught.

Volkov?

The man took out his wallet. He gave the receptionist a black card. After that, he turned around and walked to the elevator. He never looked at her again. He was gone when the elevator doors  closed. 

Anne stood there, still dripping on the floor, and looked at the empty space where he'd been. "Your room key, miss," the receptionist said. Now her tone was very different. She was polite, but she sounded nervous. 

Who was he?