Memories That Still Haunt Us

Chapter Eight:

Back in the guest house, I curl up on the couch, face mask on, glass of wine in my hand while watching the latest crime show. I've always been a crime junkie. From the podcasts, to the shows, to the thriller novels. Something about them excites me. Regardless of how gruesome the crime is.

            Iris can't stand them, and she always asks how I can handle seeing mutilated bodies or women tortured. It made her sick. Whereas for me, I barely bat an eye. Getting a glimpse into the mind of someone who has committed such a heinous crime is intriguing. What made them do it? What drove them to that point? Were they born that way or shaped into the monsters society paints them to be? Is everyone secretly capable of committing such a gruesome act, but only some actually do it? I want to understand why people do what they do. The darker side of humanity is one that I'm well acquainted with. I've seen the ugly in people. I've been witness to it. Been on the receiving end.

            I'm not a victim though. I refuse to be. No matter how badly people want me to be. I think that's what Lake and so many other men can't stand it. Why am I not weaker? Why am I comfortable with my sexuality? Why am I not more insecure? A strong woman makes them feel weak. Less superior. They want to keep women in a pen, not allowing them to see their full potential. Men are scared of women with power.

            The episode tonight is about a woman who has been strangled and mutilated by her husband because she wanted a divorce.

            Idiot.

            I finish my glass of wine and grab the bottle beside me on the end table, filling the glass back up. My face mask is hardening. The sound of the garage opening, alerting me that the Bythesea's are back from dinner. What do they even talk about? I imagine Ellis in all his sexy broodiness with his head about to explode as he listens to Mrs. Bythesea screech like a banshee about how incompetent the new nanny is. How difficult her perfect life is. I can't imagine Ellis being much like her. Treating everyone like mere peasants.

            I want to groan. I need to stop shittalking her in my head. I barely know her, and she isn't wrong to be frustrated with me, considering I haven't started off on the best foot. And she doesn't know about my drunken stumble into their kitchen. She would be livid if she found out about that. I'd be kicked to the curb before the words even left her mouth.

            My phone pings.

            Another message from Lake. Among the many he's sent me over the course of this week. It's becoming borderline harassment. At first, it made me feel more powerful. Knowing he's losing his mind without me. Now, it's become an annoyance. Can't he take a hint?

            The texts read, Hey, how's the new job?

            I miss you. I've been thinking about you nonstop.

            I can't stop thinking about you. Can I see you?

            Reign, why aren't you responding?

            I'm worried about you. Are you okay? Why aren't you responding?

            This silence is so immature. Asnwer your fucking phone, Reign. Just let me know you're alright.

            Stop ignoring me! What the fuck? You've always treated me like shit, I'm done. I'm fucking done with you.

            Reign, please, I love you. Text me back. I'm sorry.

            His most recent text is another one of desperation, hoping I'll respond. I debate blocking him. But realize that, despite how annoying it is, the attention is what I crave. Despite how I've treated him, despite my coldness over the years and my obvious disdain for him, he still always comes crawling back. For what reason, I'm unsure. I hate how cruel I can be at times. Yet I know I need to stay this way. It protects me. It prevents me from getting hurt again.