𝘿𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙡 𝙄𝙣𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙛𝙩 - 𝙔𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 ✓

41.

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As soon as I met Ryle's gaze, it felt as if every second of hard work, improving my mental health and with Stanislav's support, completely went down the drain. Eyes do wonders. I've learnt that the best way, and the worst way. This is the worst. Because as soon as I met his eyes, I could feel the anger radiating off of his body. I don't want to feel this way. I never wanted to, ever again. My demons seem to like haunting me, as charming as some may be, others as grim and wretched as you could think. 

I lower my head almost immediately, feeling a heavy, almost guilty sense of dread hit me. The memories of hurting him, seeing him against Leila the way he was, and the shrouded memories of our relationship wash over me like a tsunami wave. Ryle's mad, mad not only for the sight of Stanislav, but the sight of me being with him. I don't think Ryle realised Stanislav was the owner of this clubhouse until now. 

I place my glass down slowly, carefully. I Feel like i could get hurt at any second. I hate to feel so paranoid around my surrounds, about him. Especially at a time and place like this. My stomach curdles and churns, my demeanour shifting and sinking into itself in fear. I contemplate what to do, but I feel like any possible movement I make will end in me getting physically hurt by Ryle. 

My gaze worriedly flickers to Stanislav, almost begging for him to look at me. He's distracted, speaking to the guests around us. I'm too afraid to speak, too afraid to draw Ryle's attention towards me in any way. I watch as Stanislav shifts further from me, his smile sitting over his lips as he converses further and further from me. 

Stanislav, I swear to God. Do not walk off. You're walking off. Oh god.

I watch in fear and worry as Stanislav walks off from the bar to converse with other guests, further and further. He's turned a corner, disappearing by a wall separator. And he told me to stay close to him, he's so confusing. I guess it's okay when he does it, not me. That does sound like a Stanislav thing to do. 

I turn my head back to face the front, my heart racing out of my chest. I'm going to be sick. He's gone, it's been so long already. And before I thought this couldn't get any words, Ryle's voice shakes me to my core. 

"I see you've moved on fast,"

Oh, he's mad. I know that tone, I know what an angry man sounds like. 

I refuse to face him, I can't, I won't. He's gripping a beer bottle, tight enough his knuckles are white. The veins coursing through his hands and arms pulse and writhe in aggression. It's a terrifying sight. 

"You must be happy, I'm sure he must please you as much as he used to. Leila told me everything."

Of course she did. That doesn't surprise me. I inhale as much oxygen within my lungs as much as possible, as if I'm going to lose it all. My body tenses and my mind spins, my eyes locked tightly on the grasp of his beer bottle as it grows tighter and tighter. I can feel the anger radiating from his body build and boil, my grasp on my own empty cup tightening in fear and shaken worry. 

I can hear the glass of his bottle begin to stress, lines of cracks beginning to splinter the dark bottle. They spread and wince against the glass, my own grasp on my cup tightening also. Stanislav isn't around, I don't know where he is and that's the most terrifying part. 

I can't move. I know for a fact that if I move, Ryle might become violent. I don't want to take that risk. I can feel a light coat of terrified sweat layer my body and face, physically trembling next to this rageful man. 

As I hear the glass of his bottle splinter and whine, I shift my glass to the edge of the table, very slowly and carefully pushing it to the very edge before gravity takes a hold of it, my glass cup plummeting to the floor and letting out a loud, sprinkled shattering echo that courses through the complete area around me. 

My heart pounds as the guests around the area's conversations cease and eye's lock on me from every direction, the soft jazz music being the only thing that fills the air. Glass shards scatter and speckle the carpeted floor under me, and within seconds, the tall figure of Stanislav reappears from the corner and speed-walks towards me. He swiftly moves past guests and moves them aside to get to me, his feet ceasing before the coating of glass around the floor. 

His eyes move from me to Ryle, and as soon as he locks eyes with Ryle, the situation instantly clicks. 

And a strong, taunting smile lifts his appealing features. 

"Ahh, Ryle! it is so good to see you here," Stanislav chuckles with casual charm, and Ryle is not pleased. He's glaring, grimacing against Stanislav's attitude.

"I know everything. Everything about you, fucking psycho." Ryle hisses, and Stanislav only scoffs and laughs with genuine humour. "What is wrong with you, Ryle? you seem mad," Stanislav chuckles, my heart pounding out of my chest as my stomach turns horribly. 

"Don't fucking talk to me like were friends, were absolutely not. I know everything, everything you've done with my fucking wife. You're not innocent, you know." He hisses, and Stanislav only lets out a short, soft sigh. 

"I never said I was innocent. I never once stated anything of the sort. You on the other hand... you're speaking to me as if you haven't done a single thing wrong," Stanislav groans as he kneels, collecting the larger glass shards from the ground and placing them in his grasp. 

"Me? I'm not the one that barged into our wedding day and fucking ruined everything...!" Ryle growls, Stanislav shifting and moving one of the larger pieces of glass in one of his hands separately. The guests watch in shock and confusion, Stanislav slowly approaching us. The glass crunches under Stanislav's shoes, his icy eyes flickering from Ryles grasp on the bottle, then back to him.

My heart races and pounds as Stanislav is now only inches away from Ryles sitting figure. 

In one instant, swift swing, the world seems to stop. 

A millisecond of silence, before agonizing, unbearable screaming lurches from Ryle's mouth. 

I watch in disbelief and shock as the glass shard sitting in Stanislavs separate hand swings up, and in a quick drop, slams the shard through Ryles hand, clean, and deep. My hands slam and up my mouth in pure shock and horror, guests letting out jolts and gasps of terror also. 

"I'm not the one that cheated on her," Stanislav smiles with condescendence, blood pouring and coating the glass bartender table as Stanislav pushes the glass down deeper. The horrifying screams that leave Ryle haunt me and shake me to my core, my stomach trying to bring up any contents within it as my eyes glass and I grimace. 

"Stanislav, stop-!!" I cry, trying to rip Stanislav away from Ryle. Stanislav grips my desperate grasp with ease by one hand, continuing to hold the glass shard down with the other as Ryle screams and cries in pain. 

Stanislavs grasp over the shard rises, ripping the shard out before slamming it back down once more, the glass bartender table splintering and shattering against the forceful impact. 

"Does it feel good, Ryle? as good as it feels for me...!?" Stanislav lets out a horrifyingly warm laugh, Ryle's cries completely nauseating me. I shift from my chair, ripping my hands out of Stanislav's grasp. With terrified tears streaming down my face and my chest heaving in intense, overwhelming panic. 

I feel Stanislav grip me by my wrist as I attempt to leave, yanking my body back once more. He straightens himself and grips my wrist painfully tight, every inch of my body fighting against him but always failing. I attempt to tear away, wincing and shaking. 

"You're not going anywhere, we're going."

Stanislav rips me across the hall by my wrist, the feeling of Ryles blood which coats Stanislav's hand stains my hand. I cry and struggle against his grasp, but he only continues to pull me out until we're outside. 

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