The Degradation (translation)

Chapter 5

In Othello, William Shakespeare wrote: "Jealousy is a monster that begets itself and gives birth to itself."He forgot to specify that it goes deep under the skin. Jealousy is the beginning of

destruction. She's completely maddening.

***

Louis' pov

I can do it. No. Aaa, fuck. I feel like a complete jerk because I've been in front of the veterinary clinic for 10 minutes, but I still don't dare to get out of the car. And the worst part is that I saw him through the glass door of the waiting room, so he saw me, too. And after all, I don't have the most inconspicuous car in the world. Red Lamborghini convertibles are not often driven around the streets. I'm being an idiot. That's right, I'm an idiot. I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, as if that might help. It's not difficult. I open the door. Leave. I close the door. I go inside. I approach him. I thank him. I ask why he did it. Thank you again and I'm leaving. It's easy. But it's probably not as easy as it sounds, because I'm still sitting in my car. Like an idiot.

I sigh heavily, to be honest, I don't understand why it's so hard for me to thank him. And hell, you can just leave, I didn't ask him to help me, he came by himself. Well, I'm starting to tap on the steering wheel again. It bothers me. What happened two days ago at the festival bothers me. I can't stop thinking about it. I go over the scene in my head again and again, but I can't figure out why he did it. I have searched and searched a hundred times for an excuse, but I have never found a single reason why he should come to my rescue. Especially considering how awful I was to him. He had no reason to help me. But he helped. Where did it come from anyway?

Because that's what I've been thinking, too. I didn't notice him anywhere until he found me in the middle of the mirrors. But then there were a lot of people, and I didn't really look. So, I stop banging on the steering wheel, because soon I'll ruin the upholstery. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and walk out. Apparently, the fact that I've been sitting in the car for fifteen minutes like a complete idiot has made me angry, because I open the door too abruptly. I walk over to the counter and lean against it. His head is lowered to the computer, and he speaks before I can say anything.

"Hello, Louis."

And even if he doesn't raise his head to look at me, I notice his smug grin. Okay, so he wasn't going to pretend, just out of politeness, that he hadn't seen how long I'd been standing in the parking lot? Now I don't want to thank him, I don't want to thank him at all. But I can't just walk away! And of course, I say the first thought that comes to mind:

"How's the dog?"

I clench my teeth. Seriously? "How's the dog," is that a joke? I haven't asked anything about the dog since the night I hit it. Nothing worse could be imagined. I mentally curse myself, and he smiles. Even wider. Well, that's enough, I'll soon shove that smile somewhere for him.

"Are you asking me how's the dog?"

Fine, he wants to humiliate me even more? I'm angry because I'm making a complete fool of myself in front of him for the umpteenth time.

"Yes."

He types something else on the keyboard before turning to me. I can see him trying not to laugh.

"He's doing very well."

"That's good."

He is very amused by this situation, and I clench my teeth harder.

"He was taken in over a month ago," he says, emphasizing the last words. So he doesn't just want to humiliate me, he wants to bury me alive? I seem to be helping him dig a hole.