WORK IN PROGRESS: Shattered Love (Unedited)

1. Anne

Time seemed to stop and everything around me became blurry. There has to be an explanation. Don't jump into the worst-case scenario. I repeated this in my mind for what felt a million times, even though I just walked ten steps or less towards the scene that would become a permanent fixture of torture in my mind.

I was always picturing the most terrible situations, even if the thoughts lasted less than a blink, they were present. I had learned in therapy that it was a coping mechanism that helped me not get my expectations high. Absolutely, I was the epitome of emotional health. So I processed all these thoughts while placing one foot in front of the other until I reached the door of Kyle's office in our two-floor apartment.

I don't know how silent were my steps in high heels, but they must have been completely hushed, since I stood on the door and watched my world implode without anyone else noticing.

My husband was sitting on his dark brown leather chair, facing the laptop with a certain separation from the desk. Even watching him from the side of the room, and with no light other than his desk lamp, I could see my worst nightmare perfectly clear.

His shirt was open, showing his bare chest and his sweaty body on display. His pants were mid-thigh along with his underwear, with his left hand grasping the chair arm and the other one was jerking him off, while showing a facial expression of pure pleasure. I knew the expression well: head thrown back and eyes closed, his breathing rising and his panting deafening.

His sounds seemed to be in perfect coordination with the feminine moans that came from the screen. It couldn't be a random porn video because I knew the woman in there. I had long talks with her during the past recent months, while Kyle was having his Life Coach sessions. Her services were provided by his company, who wanted to project him towards a very successful career and were betting on every resource to make it happen.

The same bitch that had talked to the both of us about our goals, our dynamic as a couple. Who was entitled to a very personal aspect of our relationship was moaning his name over and over while saying also how much she would like his hands to be the ones that were making her come.

It seems funny remembering all those details, since what I felt my focus on was his wedding ring shinning and mocking me. I was waiting for it to explode from the force he was using for holding onto that fucking chair. Exactly how my heart was shattering into tiny pieces.

I don't know how much time later my gaze changed direction and focused on the wall that was holding my body and my sanity at the same time. The color that splashed all over the light gray tone we chose for our apartment last year after being tired of the white one that was there when we bought the place, was reminding me of blood running. That rich dark red that was slowly changing the color of my house and my life, and it was all I could focus on for what it could felt like hours.

I didn't register anything else until I felt a hand touching my arm. I glanced around me and I noticed at some point I had knelt down because I was ln the floor, with one of my hands touching the floor, while the other one was being held by the wrist.

Kyle was kneeling next to me, grabbing me to examine my hand. Wine was mixing with blood because my palm was bleeding from a cut I don't remember getting. When I looked at him, I saw shock and worry in his eyes. My immediate impulse was to tell him I was ok and to hug him just to erase that effect out of his handsome face. I forgot how awful my reality had become, but his "just throughly-fucked" aspect reminded me of it.

Shattered glass was all around me, and my knees were killing me in this position. A huge wave of rage, agony and despair had me drowning and I felt like I was not controlling my own body.

I felt myself going through a thousand emotions that only made me want to scratch his face again and again. I was ready to unleash my fury, but what came out of my mouth was a cool and polite tone that expressed "You have semen dripping from your chest. Clean yourself up, and please, clean my mess too. I will be in the kitchen".

I turned around and went directly towards the counter, where the Cabernet Savignon bottle was waiting for me.

Kyle always told me that it was distasteful to drink wine from something other than the appropriate glass. Maybe that's why I felt a glimpse of revenge by drinking directly from the bottle.