FREEDOM

The pain from his betrayal was already wrecking me apart before the sound of the slap reached me,

A sharp and completely brutal crack split the air apart, and for a full heartbeat, I stood there in confusion, not understanding what had just happened.

My head snapped to the side, my vision blurred, and I stumbled back as the hot rush of pain bloomed across my face,

Did.. Did he just slap me?

My heels caught on a rug, and I nearly crashed on the floor. The room tilted around me and I had to slam my hands on the wall just to re-orient myself.

Evan didn’t move to help me, nor did he apologize.

He didn’t even flinch, all he did was stare at me with burning eyes and a heaving chest, and for the first time in my life, I saw him completely furious.

Behind him, Lyra curled on the couch, her fake sobs filling the air as she clutched her stomach and occasionally stopped sobbing just to groan in pain. Her friend hovered dramatically above her, her eyes widening with horror that felt fake.

But neither of them mattered, Evan did.

My ears still rung, my breath was rough, and my body hurt, but I gritted my teeth and stood up,

“Evan…” my voice as it left my lips was cracked, confused and filled with raw fury. “Y-You hit me? I am your fiancee for God’s sake, and you hit me over her lies.”

He took a step forward and clenched his jaw, “I will do something worse if you do not leave my home at this very moment,” he hissed,

His home? The only reason I wasn’t stumbling back was because there was a wall behind me. What did he mean by that? I had paid for half of this house myself, and now, it was his home?

I had already decided that I was not going to be with him anymore, but his words still made my world spin, and slowly, everything within me began to grow cold and hollow.

“What are you still doing here, you bitch?” he screamed, “GET OUT!”

I straightened, moving as slowly as I could. “Fine,” I whispered as I glanced up and met his gaze, “I’ll go.”

He just blinked.

The rage and fury in his eyes flickered at my words, and just for a second, I could spot indecision in his gaze.

But I was not waiting for him to come to his senses. Evan was a lost cause, and I would have to learn to live with that.

I turned away from him before he could see the tears already beginning to streak down my face. I refused to let him see me collapse, not now, never again.

My feet carried me down the hallway on autopilot, and while I was walking, I could hear Lyra still wailing, and Evan caring for her.

With a pained smile, I pushed them out of my mind and walked towards my room. My cheeks throbbed with every pulse, and it felt like Evan’s slap had left a brand on my face.

I reached the bedroom and immediately went to work, with a grunt, I yanked open the wardrobe and began to pack my things. Clothes, shoes, accessories – all of them on the floor, like trash.

I grabbed my suitcase from under the bed and started shoving my clothes inside, not bothering to fold, nor sort them. I just packed my things in complete and desperate silence.

Every single breath I took was rough, and along with the roughness came the pain, not a physical one, but an emotional one.

I zipped my suitcase with a grunt and stood up to my full height. With trembling hands, I snatched up my phone, my charger, my pox of jewelry, placed everything in another smaller suitcase, and began to drag all of these things out of the door.

I let out a sigh of relief when I reached the living room door, and neither Lyra nor Evan was there.

I stretched out my hand to turn the doorknob and walk out, when a swift and fast shadow moved into my path.

Lyra.

She stood there with her arms crossed and a wide smirk on her face. Her hand still rested protectively over her stomach, and her entire expression oozed of nothing more than triumph.

She knew she had won, and she was here to gloat.

“Well, well, well,” she purred, leaning her shoulders on the door frame, “Running away already? Wow, you really are a weak bitch,” she hissed, “And here’s me thinking you were going to put up more of a fight.”

I kept my gaze forward, gripping my suitcase tighter—my knuckles throbbed, and my jaw stung where Evan's key-clenched fist had left a cut, blood trickling down my neck. The metallic taste burned in my mouth, fueling the rage simmering inside me. "Move."I kept my gaze forward and adjusted my grip on my suitcase.

Lyra sneered, then took a lazy step towards me. “Aw, sweetheart,” she smiled, “I can’t believe you are actually trying to be strong now. Cute, really. Too bad it’s all for show.”

“Move,” this time, I repeated the question through gritted teeth.

“Or what?” Lyra stretched into a cruel, triumphant grin, and she stepped directly into my path, chest puffed out like she was daring me to strike. Her sneer grew longer, and she once again blocked my path.

This time, I was done playing games with her.

With a soft grunt, I raised up my smaller suitcase—not with a weak swing, but with every ounce of pent-up fury, and slammed it into her smug.

The crack that split the air was satisfying. It was a wet, meaty crunch that made her eyes fly wide. Lyra’s scream was shrill, a yelp of shock and pain, as she stumbled backward, hands flying to her face. I didn’t let her catch her breath. I dropped the suitcase hard, the wheels skittering on the floor, and lunged at her with flying fists, every punch aimed at the places that had hurt me. My knuckles connected with her cheek, her shoulder and even her ribs. The sound of the smack cracked the air and Lyra screamed as she fell on the floor.

She crumpled to the floor like a rag doll, her cries turning to whimpers as she curled into a ball, blood trickling from her split lips.

I leaned down slightly, my gaze sharp, letting each word hit like a threat. “You and Evan? You’ll find out soon enough. The cost of bullying me isn’t just a split lip or a black eye. It’s far, far more devastating, and you’ll both pay for it in full.”

Her eyes blurred with tears, fat and ugly, streaking down her mascara-smeared cheeks. I could hear shouts erupting from inside the house. Evan’s voice, high and panicked, calling her name, but I didn’t care. I didn’t spare Lyra another glance, didn’t let her whimpers or her sniveling guilt-trips worm their way into my head. I grabbed my suitcase, wrenched the front door open, and slammed it shut behind me so hard the walls shook.