-Evangeline-
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I hear voices. They surround me. Yelling screaming. Several distant arguments back and forth. Several people talking. My name occurring from their different octave voices the most.
Most people, when they see darkness, and their lives start flashing before their eyes, they feel panicked, overwhelmed, full of regret, but me... I don't feel anything, but numbness and a warmth coming from this darkness that I am seeing, most of the warmth coming from my hand as if someone's holding it.
My eyes pry open, the feeling of dread washing over me, knowing that I'm alive and my first view is Mr. Winters.
He sits with one hand extended, holding mine, his body slumped into a blue chair -which looks like he scooted next to mine since the other matching chair sits in the corner of the room- in his two-piece black suit he always wears.
His expensive custom-made jacket lay on the back of his chair as if he had thrown it down without care, making his white dress shirt visible -detailing every inch of his body- with his black tie loose around the collar.
Still wearing his mask as always -this time being white- which makes his blue eyes pop out more. When I look into his eyes, that's when a strange pinging sensation in my heart starts throbbing.
His smokey blue eyes show regret and something new. It's some kind of emotion I've never seen before. If I had to put it, it would be something along the lines of... despair.
Which makes me question, whether or not his emotions toward me were real or not. Or was it all just a show he put on for his little toy?
Realizing my hand is still in his oversized hand, I rip from the burning heat of his fingertips touching my wrist away. My gut screams 'Don't do it' to detest me from removing my hand. I clench my hand into a fist and narrow my eyes at Cole as anger flows through my veins for my gut still liking him while recovering what he did to me.
He must have felt my hand movement because his eyes moves from staring down at nothing to looking at me in my eyes. A quiet gasp comes from him as his eyes reach mine.
When his eyes stare into mine, all the good memories we've had, all the things we've done, all the feelings swell into my mind, causing all the anger to steam off as if he placed an ice cub on my heart.
And then the numb feeling comes back, overcoming the warm feeling.
"Evangeline!" I turn my eyes, disconnecting mine and Cole's eye contact, and the dawning that I can't turn my head hits as I stare at Charlotte standing from her chair at the end of my bed.
"You're awake!" She says with tears swelling and dropping from her eyes, "I'll go get the nurse!" She rushes out of the room. The sound of the door shutting sends a throbbing pain through my head, leaving only the sound of the beeping EKG.
Blue hospital blankets with white sheets cover me as the top of my blue and white hospital gown peaks out, the sleeves of my gown wanting to drape off my shoulders.
I try to lift my shaking arm to cover the bare shoulder that the gown has fallen off of, but my arm won't reach past my stomach.
"You're going to feel weak for a couple of days," Cole's words ignite the dreading silence in the room.
I look at his arm that's reaching out to me. His hand is nearly touching my cheek as if he wants to cup it, but instead, he grabs the sleeve of my shirt, pulling it over my shoulder to cover myself for me.
The sound of my heartbeat on the EKG starts beating faster as his hand hovers over my skin.
That traitorous bitch.
"Don't overstrain yourself," He says while slowly pulling his hand away as if he felt the shock of electricity as I did when he touched my bare shoulder.
Fuck you. Is what I wanted to say, but when I open my dry lips, nothing comes out of my mouth.
"The doctors said, when you woke up, you might not have a voice. Your vocal cords might be strained or lost for a while until your neck heals."
When I woke? How long was I out?
My brows draw, and he sighs, "You were out for three days," His tone suddenly shifts into a lower-depth, more glum voice, "You died three times."
The door opening turns my eyes to Charlotte and a familiar older-looking nurse stepping into the room, sending Cole to stand up. He walks out of the room, passing them as they walk towards my bed.
He's always the one to leave when I'm at my worst.
Or when you need him, a voice from the back of my head speaks.
"Hey, sleepy head. How are you feeling?" The nurse's eyes examine my body as I try to open my mouth to say 'like shit' but still nothing comes back.
I probably look like shit.
"I'm Nurse Patty, and I'll be your charge nurse today," Her smile beams as if she deals with these kinds of patients not talking every day.
My chest heaves tightly when I'm not able to smell the smell of Mr. Winters's fragrance which sends me back to reality where I'm in a hospital bed, injured.
"It's okay, honey. You're going to be okay. You were in a bad accident, and it's okay to cry."
CRY?! I don't want to cry. I feel like I'm having a panic attack!
"Let's get your vitals and respiration to make sure you're doing better," Ignoring my panic attack because she's thinking I'm about to cry, Nurse Patty grabs a stethoscope -that's wrapped around her neck- and presses it against my chest.
"I need you to take deep breaths, darling. Try to calm yourself down, so I can hear your lungs."
Suddenly I realize how much I hate the word darling.
I take a couple of calm deep breaths as the room goes quiet again. Nurse Patty removes her cold hands and cold stethoscope, "Well, your vital and respiration are better now," she says as she backs from me.
She rubs her hands together, her smile turning into a serious face, "I'm sorry, but you lost the baby. You're going to feel not good for a couple of days. You'll feel the after-effects of giving birth, but with some medication, it'll get better-" Nurse's Patty words turn to a blur as my jaw starts to quiver while I hold my hands over my stomach.
My mouth fills with saliva as a numb feeling overcomes me.
He's gone.
Cole was right... I wasn't ready to be a mother. I thought I was, but I'm not. I wanted him so bad... He would of... He was perfect. I say to myself as I stare at my stomach, where he used to be.
I want to cry, but I can't. I want to scream, but the only thing that overcomes me is the shallow pit of my stomach and the numb feeling that stays.
"It's okay. I know, honey," Charlotte speaks out after Nurse Patty leaves the room.
I blame Mr. Winters. He... he did this.
Charlotte sighs, "I suppose you want to blame Mr. Winters," She says as if she read my thoughts.
"Mr. Winters is the one who called me. He said he saw you at the bottom of the stairs. He said he would have chased the guy who did this, but you were more important. So, he took you to the hospital. He saved you," I look Charlotte in the eyes, the amount of shock overwhelming my body as my jaw drops open.
Did he really say I was more important, or did he improvise it?
I look away, out of the open curtained window at the night sky. The stairs shine bright after the clouds move away.
He hurt me. Not like hurt as in ripped the bandaid off a scraped knee hurt. It feels like he stabbed me in the heart and tore it out just to shred to pieces. You have NO IDEA what kind of pain Mr. Winters put me through. To love someone with all your soul and then have your soulmate tell you it was all a lie. Mr. Winters said I was JUST play thing. JUST a stripper. Nothing else. He said he wanted me to give the baby up. To abort it when I first told him about it. I know... he only said he wanted it now out of guilt. If I hadn't gone to tell him about MY baby, he would be alive right now! This is what I wanted to scream at Charlotte, but instead, the room fills with an awkward silence.
I swallow the saliva that wants to build up in my throat.
Every time I'm with Winters, something bad happens. Are you sure? Because the first time I was with Mr. Winters, Julie died, and because of him, I missed her funeral. Then, the second time I was with him, Violet got a divorce, and now... I take a deep breath. My thoughts are getting out of control.
Now, MY precious little angel isn't here anymore.
He could have been alive. I could have been a mother! I WANTED to be a mother so bad!
So bad...
"Do you know who did this to you?" Charlotte's voice snaps my vision back to her.
I know who did it, but to say his name and to put my mind to think about him is reliving the memory of losing my child. Over and over. It would repeat. The fear that overcame me. The helpless state that I was in.
Charlotte slaps her head, "Duh, you can't answer," I roll my eyes.
I sure know how to pick my best friends.
I lift my thumb an inch from my hand to give her a confirmation of who did this.
***
When I imagined walking out of the hospital with my baby, I didn't expect to only be carrying a box of his ashes, a blurry picture, and a teddy bear of his weight.
I was out for three days, so they couldn't preserve his body for a burial, so they had to cremate him...
My baby was cremated and is now in a cheap ass vase on top of a brown dresser in Violet's guest bedroom where I sleep next to it day after day, staring at it.
In the guest bedroom where I have slept with Violet since I moved out of Mr. Winters's house are Violet's baby supplies. An empty cradle sits next to the bed, several baby toys surround the gloomy room.
You could ask what's worse than staring at my unborn child's ashes? It's waking up every day, or nap and seeing my unborn child's vase and an empty crib.
I think staring at the empty crib hurts worse than staring at the vase.
"Evangeline?" A knock on the door followed by Violet's entrance sounds the room, "Are you okay? You haven't eaten anything and barely drunk anything in three days," I lay in bed, staring at the white ceiling, feeling numb, and not wanting to blast my music because it would make me feel something.
In the past couple of days, I've learned to numb the process of the whole sha-bang. It's better than feeling the depression.
"Evangeline. I know you're going through a lot right now, but that doesn't mean you should just lay in bed and not eat anything for three days! You're going to hurt yourself!" Not wanting to look at Violet, I continue to stare at the ceiling. Her words fade as a ringing noise buzzes in my ear.
Hurt myself? How much more pain can a person go through that's worse than losing a child?
"Evangeline!?"
I ignore her words as I continue to stare at the ceiling.
Violet sighs, "Fine. Don't speak to me. But like it or not, you're eating today," The door clicks as a sign I'm left alone in the room as always.
Everyone tells you about your failures and how it's going to hurt, but no one has said how much it's going to hurt after the trauma.
In the past couple of weeks, The Winters Industry has skyrocketed through the roof with sales and stocks because of my meeting with the Chen brothers. Every magazine has Mr. Winters and me posted on the front cover with the Chen brothers. But when the media heard what Mr. Winters did to me -thanks to August- they went bonkers.
The Winters Industry stocks and prices have dropped to record low depths. They've been called a scandal, and Mr. Winters has been called a monster for who he truly is. I would feel bad for their company, but it would have been worse than what it is IF I had the paperwork I dropped when the accident happened. But, I'm grateful that August has helped as much as he can with the situation. He's the best stalker brother in the world.
It would bring a smile to my face that Mr. Winters's company, which he LOVES so much, is failing to its ruins, but nowadays I seem to not be able to smile. Or be happy as a matter of fact.
Everything seems... blue, even if I try to block it out.
I pry my legs off of the bed, hanging my legs over the side, and get a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the wall. I stand and walk over to the mirror, observing myself.
I still have the bump, but nothing is there. It's just a deflated balloon. I can't feel his little kicks waking me up. I can't feel him moving around. I can't feel his heartbeat, or ever hear it at an ultrasound again. I can't feel him. At all.
I put my hand on my bump, praying this is all a dream. Praying for a kick. Praying for something, but nothing. Nothing happens. Outrage, I pound on the mirror.
I keep pounding on it with my fist, each pound getting harder, causing it eventually to shatter into pieces on the floor.
Just like me now.
I drop to my knees, the glass stabbing into my skin.
It's hard to describe this pain that I've never felt before. It's like this pit feeling rising from your core, to feeling your stomach sinking in and rising to your heart, crushing it on the way in a heartbreaking way to closing your windpipe with a burning feeling as your windpipes inflame.
It hurts.
It hurts. It hurts more than a regular breakup. It hurts more than any physical pain you can be put through. It hurts... more than anything in the world.
It makes you want to cry, want to whine in an agony painful way, to let all your emotions out, but you can't. The pressure of the flames in your throat won't let you. So all I can do is open my mouth, tears swelling in my eyes, and say nothing...
I want to cry. I want to scream, shout, curl up into a ball, and sob. So, I do.
I drop to my side, pieces of glass stabbing into my arm. The pain of a piece of glass cascades from next to my eyebrow, lingering over the slide of my temple -close to my eye- and stops. It sticks in my cheekbone as I lay my head on the floor, curling into a ball on my side.
I tap my head against the floor, not caring if the pain of a piece of glass is going deeper while hearing it tap against the floor each time I tap my head.
I just wanted to... forget.
Any pain would feel better than this, I think to myself as I choked on my tears.
All my emotions and feelings are starting to come out at once. The numbness starts to disappear as I begin to break.
He was my life. My everything. I don't know what I'm going to do without him. Breaking up and leaving Mr. Winters hurt, but this pain. This pain hurts to the core. It makes my body shudder, and my heart ache in misery. My stomach hits in pain, but I'm not hungry. I lay on the floor, tears flowing out of my mind.
There's only one thing I can think of to escape this pain.
I get off the small puddle of blood on the floor and change into a sports bra and leggings. I walk into the bathroom, looking in the mirror as I put my hair in a ponytail. Blood smears in my hair and leaks down on my pale smooth skin. The droplets fall from my face and into the white sink, creating a river of blood to the drain.
I pick the glass off from my cheek with more blood oozing out. The deep cut is going to leave a scar and maybe even need stitches. My first physical scar from him. He has many on his face.
I open the mirror, grabbing the mini first aid kit next to the unused and old Plan-B box.
The same box that started it all.
I clean the blood from my face and slap several dinosaur band-aids on the new long scar.
I wipe my tears away and out of the bedroom, walking downstairs. The memory of walking down the stairs in a dress, laughing with Charlotte and Violet, as they wore matching dresses floods my mind as I walk out on the front porch. I take a deep breath as my body trembles.
I look around, remembering every fragment of each time I was on this porch, Dave looked at me like I was a snack for him.
I start running.
I run down the street where the last time I ran down this street, Mr. Winters was on my mind, flooding my veins with love. But now... now he floods my veins with all the ways I'm going to get revenge on him.
I run. I run until my legs start burning. I run until sweat pours down my face, mixing with my tears. I run to feel the pain of my calves burning as I take each step. I run to feel something other than this. The pain I'm feeling now feels so much better than what I've been through. I run for minutes. Hours. Until my core is sore. Until my ribs are sore. I keep running until I'm out of breath. I keep running until my vision starts to fade to black stars. I keep running until my body gives out and drops to the ground.
***
"Are you tired of being a whiny bitch and feeling like shit every time you remember him!?"
"Yes," I whisper.
"Do you finally want my help?" Not wanting to fill August's ego with words, I nod my head.
"Then pick yourself up, get out of this fucking hospital bed. Meet me at my house tomorrow. Training starts at 8 a.m. sharp."
"But.."
August lives in New York, where it all started. How was I supposed to meet him at his house, when I'm in Canada? What kind of training involves going to his house?
"No buts, Evangeline! If you want this shit done, then you have to act on it. Revenge always comes with a price. Are you willing to pay anything to get it?"
"Yes."
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-End-
Congratulations.
You've made it.
This is the last part of this story.
If you've like it, good.
A little Acknowledgments-
Thank you for reading Crashing Down Into Glory. I want to thank my close friends who listened to my crazy ideas and who read some of my stories to tell me if it's good or not. I want to thank my brain for coming up with chapters when I'm falling asleep, in my dreams, and remember them in the morning to write every detail down.
I want to especially thank y'all. Without y'all, I wouldn't have made it to number 1 in slowburn for two days straight. Without y'all, Mr. Winters wouldn't be a businessman who became... progressive. Because of y'all, I have over 4k reads and over 20 bookmarks which is insane to think that 4k people from all around the world have read my story. I came up with it because I wanted to write something I would read. So, thank you... thank you for everything. <3
-Shadowspirit
If you want to read the next book of the Crashing series, then the next short story is called Falling For The Enemy's Boss.