LOVE? NEVER | ✓

Chapter Eleven

"Words mean nothing when actions contradict."

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I weaved through the tons of people dancing and talking and made my way to the entrance. Ignoring the endless calls of a worried Amanda behind me, I ran across the parking and directly inside my sedan, panting.

"Is there something wrong?" the driver asked, turning his head and facing me.

"Take," I said, passing him ten dollars. "I want to drive alone."

He nodded, and exited the car. I sat in his place and started the engine.

I wasn't escaping from her, nor my problems.

I didn't want to harm her.

I didn't want to direct my anger on her, because if I did stay, and if I did what was on my mind...I'd spend the rest of my life regretting it. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel until my knuckles turned yellow.

It was something far more different than anger, it was something I never felt. Something that felt like the walls of my throat were drying. Something that felt like my body ached and surrendered to what seemed like a solid state of numbness.

I punched the steering wheel multiple times to let go of whatever was holding me in a shocked state. I screamed, I yelled, I cursed in every language I know, but nothing seemed to work.

Screw love if this is what it feels like!

It feels hideous. Every thought about her disgusted me.

I felt my jaw clench, my breath hitched, and I felt my whole body sweat. A sudden headache attacked my head as I started shaking vigorously.

My hands started quivering on the steering wheel, I drove to the side and stopped, resting my head between my hands in expiration.

Breath, Ethen, breath.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

I directed the air-conditioner's blades to face me and wiped my face with the material of my shirt.

It was no longer than some passing moments, that my body came to a complete stop.

I stopped shaking, exhaling the smoke of the cigarette between my fingers.

A delicate feeling of stupefaction overruled my internals. Paralysis clouded my brain, blocking every thought of anything.

I exhaled another time.

Smog invaded my lungs, and I wasn't sad about it.

I welcomed the feeling with open hands, like a suffering patient in front of death.

I was in that point that I wanted to go somewhere I never knew. Somewhere my whole life starts again, somewhere I can finally eliminate my past in.

But I knew it wasn't there.

My past is still my past, and my life is still my life.

I looked over to my phone, and the picture of Rose on my lock screen was like a stabbing knife in my throat.

Five missed calls and three new messages from Amanda.

One new message from My Princess.

Curiosity kindled. I slowly held the phone in my hand and unlocked it to read Rose's, my princess', message.

My princess: Sir, I called you multiple times but you wouldn't answer. Please tell me that everything is fine. –Amanda.

But everything is not fine, Amanda, it's definitely not.

●●●

I arrived at my mansion late at night. It didn't matter what time was it, because it was never time for them to betray me.

It shouldn't be the time anyway.

I parked the car and rushed to my room, shutting the door behind me and rolling into my bed.

Nothing is better than leaving everything.

I sealed my eyes shut and covered myself with the thin blankets on the side.

I don't want to see her again.

I don't want to hear her soft voice again.

I don't want to see a glimpse of her charming smile again.

It will not be easy, but it's what the right thing is.

●●●

"Mr. Hendrix," Amanda stood up from her chair when the elevator door opened. "Mr. Hendrix, wait."

I walked past her desk and through the open doors of my office, resting my bag on the floor next to my desk, and examining the files piled in front of my computer screen.

"Sir," Amanda said weakly as she stood in front of the doors and away from my desk, clutching a folder to her abdomen.

I motioned with my arm for her to sit. Her heel clicks stopped when she reached me and sat uncomfortably on the chair.

"Where did you go yesterday?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.

"I don't want to talk about what happened," I replied dryly.

"What happened yesterday is not Rose's fault, she—"

"What?" I asked, looking blankly at her. "She what?"

"She drank too much, and she wasn't thinking properly."

"You were there, Amanda," I turned my head to face the folders again. "She could have stopped him."

"She fainted when you left," she stated, guilt stroke directly into my heart that I physically winced.

"Okay," I replied, tensed.

"She asked for you."

"She didn't think of what would have happened before she drank? Answer me, Amanda."

"I can't believe how you easily forgot her," she replied, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"I didn't."

"Then what are you doing?" she asked, settling the folder on my desk and standing up. "I thought you'd act differently about this. About her. Everybody saw what happened yesterday, and it was no longer a secret that you tried to hide."

"What are you trying to say?" I asked, eager for an answer.

"It wasn't her fault, sir, it was Mr. Isaac's."

And with that, she forced a smile, turned and left the room quietly.

I thought of what she said.

How was it not her fault when she drank? Why did she let him do that to her? Why did she go with him? Why did she sit next to him? Why did she not stop him when he touched her? Why did she not stop him when he wanted to kiss her?

Why did she do that?

Did he treat her better?

Am I not enough?

Is she not happy with me?

Why?

Why?

I guess I'll never know the answer to my questions.

"Mr. Hendrix, Mrs. Smith is on the phone," Amanda voice came from the telephone beside me.

I looked at it for a moment, my brain processing what my ears just caught.

This can't be happening.

Not right now.

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A/N

Happy reading..

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Raghad.