The Emancipation of a Fuckboy [BxB] √

Chapter Fifty

Yhannie

Vincent took over the driving responsibility as I'm in no perfect shape to drive. I might just step on the engine and crash this car somewhere. I sat down quietly at the passenger's seat as I let the hurt clench my chest and jerk my eyes. I was so much petrified by pain and confusion that I seemingly forgot how to talk except for the occasional whimpering that I'm making. It's like my tongue got sucked inside my throat. I wanted to save my tears for another day, but my drunkenness just had me tearing up as we drive home. My tears, they just keep on cascading down my cheeks like a waterfall. I leaned my head against the window and stared outside as Vincent continued to drive.

How could Trevor do this to me? That's what I'm trying to ask myself. I've already accepted the fact that I'm just a mistress and that I'm most definitely going to hell for that. But after what happened tonight, it became clear that Trevor's the one going to hell for this. I thought the reason why we wanted to keep this relationship private is only because of his wife. But all the while there's another mistress that I don't know of. Who knows how many women Trevor has preyed on? Who knows if we're not just three? What if there's five or six or seven. I feel extremely bad for Lily. That woman was so confident of picking a fight with me, telling me that I'm the whore, that I stole his man but little did she know we are just of the same feathers. Were both whores. We both stole Trevor from his unsuspecting wife.

I just can't imagine how the wife would feel if she hears about this. She might be the original, but it's crystal clear that Trevor doesn't love her anymore and that will probably destroy her world. Just like how my world is destroyed right now.

"What happened?" Vincent finally spoke ultimately usurping the reign of silence and sadness that's been sitting at the throne for a long while. I snapped back to my senses and realized we were already driving close to our building.

"I thought he loved me so much," Still leaning my head against the window, I spoke so much like a robot running out of battery.

"I don't know him that much but he's a pussy," Vincent uttered. It's true, Trevor's a pussy. And why am I still calling him Trevor when his real name is Jackson after all. I don't really give a fuck about his real name but the audacity of him to keep me that for a year is beyond condemnable. I don't even know why caught a whiff that he's married but never found out that Trevor isn't his real name.

"I loved him that I wanted to stay even after I found out that he's married," Now that Vincent has seen the bag, I might as well let the cat out of the bag. There's no point in hiding this shit from him anymore.

"What? He's married?" Vincent let out in utter shock.

"I guess he never loved me at all. He only loved my pussy," I followed up. It's all starting to making sense to me now. Trevor's all geared up and energized when it comes to sex, and though I loved that part of our relationship, I always let it pass when he just leaves without saying goodbye after. Perhaps it's because the next time we see each other, he'll be just as hot as he was and I'm just a horny girl. The dots are slowly drawing a picture for me.

"Hold up, he's married?" Vincent asked loudly, repeating what he just said and completely ignoring my statement.

"Yes, he's already married and he even has a kid," I spat at him, and then I went quiet.

How could I do this to myself? I asked myself this time. Trevor isn't the only man on this planet, and yet I was so much drowning in his quicksand. He's slowly sucking me in. I just don't understand why I stayed after knowing that Trevor is already married to someone else. He got me completely locked in the palm of his hands. I should've left the moment he admitted that he's already married and spared myself the sin and the pain. But as a terrible decision-maker, I covered my eyes and chose the sin and the pain, and look what it got me. Shattered to pieces like a champagne glass smashed on a wall. I'm really terrible at making good decisions for myself.