Memories That Still Haunt Us

Chapter Fifty-Two:

The call came around ten p.m. that same night.

I'm never asleep that early, and when I first heard my phone buzzing on the couch beside me, a thrill raced through me in the hope of it being Ellis telling me everything had been sorted. Since he left to go get Beck, things have been quiet. I swept through the whole house searching for more cameras, collecting them into a cup that I left on Ellis's desk for him to discover. After that, I retreated back to the guest house, where I've been since.

Gurgling down a bottle of wine with a Xanax on the side. So lost in my thoughts that the hours merged together like drops of paint on a canvas, and even though I'm meant to be packing, I have a feeling I won't have to anymore after tonight. Millie is the one who should be packing.

But the call wasn't Ellis. It was Millie, and when I answered and nervously raised it to my ear, her breathing came through the speaker like a rabid animal, and there was such a long silence that I thought maybe she was performing some sort of evil spell on me, but finally she spoke, and her voice was rather calm despite the heavy breathing, and she simply said, "I think we need to talk."

To which I told her, "Yes, I believe we do."

She told me to meet her at the Longfellow Bridge, which was a bit of an inconvenience to drive there so late at night, especially not knowing what her motives were, but alas, I drove there anyways and parked my car in a nearby lot before walking on the sidewalk of the bridge. The night air is cold, and the wind is much stronger on the bridge. It's empty—not a car in sight. I see her dark figure standing in the middle of the bridge. It's hard to make out what she's doing.

I burry myself deeper into my coat. The night is quiet besides the sounds of distant cars and the water below.

When I finally reach her, she's facing the water, hands stuffed in her jacket pockets, and a plaid scarf wrapped around her neck. With minimal lighting, she looks somewhat beautiful. Giving me a glimpse of what Ellis might have seen in her. Her pale skin is ghostlike, making her red hair look like fire embers.

"Do you think he loves you?" She asks me, her eyes still peering down at the water. "Honestly."

I hesitate. "Yes." I say, but my voice is unconvincing, and she knows it as her lips curl slightly in the corner of her mouth.

She finally looks at me, the smug grin spreading across her face. "You know he doesn't. Men like Ellis think they want a young girl. Someone who strokes their ego and is easy to mold into who they want them to be, but in reality, men like him soon realize young girls don't know what they want yet. They're immature, naïve, and emotional. They want young girls because they're easy to manipulate, and it's all a fantasy; it's not real. Men want a wife, a mother, someone who will help fix their mistakes." Her eyes look me over. "You are not that. You are a fleeting fantasy that is already growing old for him. He's already bored with you. You can feel it, can't you? He's pulling away. I may have my flaws, but he still will never choose you over me."

I laugh. "Do you hear yourself? You have no idea what Ellis wants. You have no idea what I want or who I am. You've never known Ellis. I've grown to understand him more than you have in your entire marriage. You don't want to know him; you just want him to be a pawn in your fucked-up life." I take a step closer to her. The wind moves through my hair, blowing it off my shoulders. Her lips are pursed, eyes narrowed. "Don't lie to me and try to tell me you love him when it's clear you don't. You like using him and having power over him. If you want honesty, let's start with you."

She laughs bitterly. "You're the one sleeping with my husband behind my back, and you think I owe you anything? You're a whore. I know all about you. All the men. All the married men, might I add. How do you think Ellis would feel if he found out about everything from your past? I seriously doubt he'd want you around Beckham."

"I've already told him parts of it."

She nods, smile deepening. "You mean your pathetic sob story about your teacher? Why don't you tell him again with all the parts you left out? How you met up with him, practically begged him to see you again. How you secretly liked it. I mean, your journals were pretty detailed. It's sad, really. Your whole life has been focused on chasing after men who don't love you back. I hate to say it, but I almost feel sorry for you. If you weren't fucking my husband, of course."

I blink rapidly. A knife digs into my heart and twists and turns. I hate her. Hate. Hate. Hate. She has no idea what she's talking about. My teeth grind bitterly. One of the bridge lights flickers before going out completely. The wind begins to pick up, whipping loudly around us. My eyes flare. We stare at one another like an old western showdown, waiting to draw our guns. "You think because you read my high school journal that you know a thing about me? I'm glad you're openly admitting you're the one who stole them, though. I found all your hidden cameras and all your lame attempts to try to scare me and fuck up my life. I should be thanking you. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been able to move on. Now I can focus solely on my relationship with Ellis because there's no way in hell he's going to stay with you after all this. He knows everything. He knows you haven't been working this whole time. Where have you been, exactly? Is there a secret room in the house I don't know about that you've just been stalking us from the whole time? You're sick. I may have my problems, but at least I'm not a psychotic stalker bitch."

She steps close to my face, and I think she might hit me or even push me over the edge of the bridge. I see the rage in her eyes. I've gotten to her, and I can't help but smile in return. Gotcha. "You're nothing. You're an annoying inconvenience in my life, and just as easily as I brought you into our world, it will be just as easy to get you out of it. I have no intention of ever losing Ellis, especially not to some cheap slut as yourself."

I laugh, rolling my eyes, and begin to walk away from her. "Are you sure you haven't already lost him?" I pull my keys out of my pocket. "Imagine how embarrassing that would be for you. Losing your husband to some cheap slut like myself." As I begin to walk away, deciding that this conversation is over, she continues to yell after me. Throwing in digs to get a rise out of me. Her voice blowing with the wind, hitting my back like small rocks.

I try to ignore her. I try to accept victory. I got under her skin. There's no way Ellis would stay with her. She's a liar. A cheater. A complete nutter. I must look so mature compared to her. He must look at me now and realize how sane I am.

But as I continue to walk and continue to hear her idiotic remarks, I realize I've had enough of her and can no longer take it. Enough of being called a whore. Enough of being misunderstood. Ignored, abused, neglected, unloved. Millie has no idea who she's messing with either, and I refuse to lose Ellis.