𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘

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EVELYN TRUDGED UP THE STAIRS of her apartment building. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying the whole way home. She stopped in front of her door for a moment and prayed for a way to ease her pain. She shook her head softly. Nothing but time will help her. She then unlocked the door and swung it open slowly. She had been a bit paranoid after the previous break-in.




She stood in the entryway silently examining the entire dark apartment. Her bag gradually fell off her shoulders before she threw it across the room in anger. She didn't even flinch nor care when the bag knocked the lamp off the end table shattering into a million pieces on the wooden floor. If she wasn't so broken, she would've admitted that it felt a bit good. She understood now why people say that throwing and breaking things is a good stress relief and way to release anger. But unfortunately, the brief solace she had felt wasn't enough to ease her pain. The only thing—the only one—who could heal her pain was the person who broke her.




Evelyn walked over to the kitchen hoping that she could drown all her sorrows in caffeine for the night. She reached up on her tippy toes and turned on the light above the stove. She watched the coffee slowly made its way into the pot as she felt her eyes sting once more. And here she thought she was all out of tears. She leaned forward on the counter then brought a hand to her mouth. Her eyes squeezed shut as a sob escaped her lips. Evelyn's legs had grown weak as slowly fell to her knees. Her back rested against the cabinet as she sobbed.




Her phone vibrated from the inside of her jacket pocket, and Evelyn wiped her cheeks free from tears. She sighed as she dug blindly for the noisy device. Her hand found the cool surface and she pulled it up to her face. And due to her current foggy mental state, she answered the call without checking caller ID. Her first mistake.




"Hello?" She answered. Her voice was scratchy from all her crying.




"Evelyn..." she straightened up her posture. She felt her face tensed up at the sound of his voice. She hated this man with a fiery passion.




"What the hell do you want?" She snarled at him, and she heard a chuckle on the other line. She didn't want to deal with him right now. She was so angry at him, herself, and the world. She didn't have enough energy nor the patience to listen to his threats.




"I'm calling to check on your progress. Did you convince my son?" Lewis asked.




"What do you think?" She asked him sarcastically. "Maybe, if you didn't drill into your son's head that he wasn't worth receiving love from another person, then maybe you'd have what you wanted, or maybe if you were overall a decent human being or a good father, then maybe you wouldn't need my help? Maybe, your son would actually want to be around you? Maybe, he would actually want to help you?"




𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐙𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑| 𝐋.𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐓 (𝟏)Where stories live. Discover now