CHAPTER 6
1163 Words
Lorenzo sits alone in his office, a glass of whiskey in hand, his mind consumed by thoughts of Soraya. He can't help but replay the events of that fateful night over and over again, each memory etched into his mind.
As he stares into the amber liquid, Lorenzo's anger seems to rise. How could he have let himself get so intoxicated that he couldn't even remember the details of their encounter? It was a mistake that he couldn't undo, and now he was left to grapple with the consequences.
He had always prided himself on being in control, on never letting anyone get too close. But now, faced with the reality of being married to a woman he barely knew, Lorenzo couldn't help but question his own choices.
The thought of Soraya, her name still in his head, stirs conflicting emotions within Lorenzo. On one hand, he feels a pang of irritation for not being able to immediately deal with her as she deserved. On the other hand, he can't deny the curiosity that is sparked within him, a desire to discover just how she’d managed to do it. Marry him in drunkenness.
She had to have planned but as he contemplates the situation, Lorenzo can’t ignore the doubt that gnaws at him.
With a sigh, Lorenzo set down his glass making a silent promise to himself. He would make sure she regrets everything.
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Soraya throws everything she owns into the a small box as Clark stands waiting in the living room. She’s been given 2 hours to get herself and her stuff in order as she’s still sporting the bonnet and robe from that morning. The stench of blood intensifies as she frees her blood matted black curls from the stuffiness of the bonnet. She throws it onto the dresser beside the white envelope. Her first smile of the day brightens her face as she realizes she doesn’t have to worry about the issue with her rent and impending eviction.
Matt would come back to no apartment
Just a bit of what he deserves
Hiding her pain for up to two hours hasn’t been a walk in the park for Soraya, it’s obviousness showing in her struggle breathing as she stuffs her and her sister’s things in her box.
With the little they own, it’s easy to throw their lives combined into one box.
Dripping from the sweat of the task, Soraya checks for time she has left before Clark comes busting into her room. It’s 1 more hour before she has to leave.
It’d have to do
Body aching wildly, she spends a few minutes searching for the Advil Matt had made her hide away a few weeks back. He’d found out she’d take a lot of it to dull the pains from his merciless beatings. She finds it on the top shelf where she’d cleared Andrea's dust covered school files from. As she holds the blue packet of the drug, memories she’d give anything to bury haunts her mind
“What is this?”
Matt shouts as he bursts into the room, nose flared, eyes wide in anger. In his hands is the Advil she’d bought just the day before. She’d forgotten to keep it hidden from the sick man. Trembling she tries to stammer out a reply unsuccessfully.
He walks up to her, towering over her small frame. His voice a low threat
“Whenever you make me hit you baby. The point is for you to feel it.”
He grabs her trembling hands in his, putting the Advil in her palm
“Get rid of it before I do. I don’t want to give you a reason to need it”
He leaves the room, Soraya’s hammering heart slowing to a normal rhythm as relief courses through her at not being hit.
She carries on dressing for her night bar shift a slight tremble the only evidence of the occurrence.
Snapping out of the little flashback, she palms water into her mouth from the sink before popping two pills into her mouth. Swallowing as she gets to undressing for a bath. The cloth she’d strapped to her abdomen has streaks of blood that’d have gotten to her bed without it. Tossing it into the trash, she gets into the bathroom.
The rusty shower in a clear need of change coughs and sputters as the cold, orange hued water spills onto her back, causing a shiver around her body. Hot water would be a luxury to Soraya, it’d been months she’d paid the heating bill.
Her body quickly adapts to the coldness of the water as she’s soon rubbing away the filth on her hair. The water runs down her body orange from the iron deposits and red from the blood matted in her hair.
She reaches for the scentless soap, careful with her bruises as the rough surface of the soap meets her body in a cleansing ritual. It doesn’t provide as much lather as regular soap, feeling more like lye sandpaper.
She steps out of the room wearing a long purple sundress. Parts of her body exposed already covered in makeup not obvious to anybody but herself, box in tow as she sees Clark still standing.
He notices her presence, a bit surprised at her transformation. She looks a lot less raggedy in her dress. A neutral scent around her he can’t place still better than the iron one
“You ready?”
He says eyeing the one small box she’s pulling as she walks towards him
“You just couldn’t sit?”
“No, I couldn’t. You ready?”
He repeats ignoring the fact that she ignored him the first time.
“The box's clearly packed up, I’m in a sundress, done with prepping. What do you think?”
“Couldn’t have been more sarcastic if you tried. My problem however is that you have one box packed up for you and your sister’s relocation. Call me stupid but I’d expect much more”
She turns an embarrassed shade of red as she self consciously moves the box out of his line of sight
“With as little as I have you learn that one box is more than enough for two people. Any more insulting questions you have?”
She brushes past him insulted as she drags the box with her to the door. He moves with her, holding out his hand to get it from her
“I didn’t mean it like that”
She ignores his held out hand, carrying the box herself to his car. A bit surprised the other two men are still standing by the car. One makes a move to help her get it into the trunk
“Couldn’t have meant it any other way. Don’t act like you’re sorry or something”
She slickly dodges the hand, dumping the box into the trunk herself
Box safely in the trunk, she gets into the car still moody.
- Writer
