Chapter Eleven: Him.
1259 Words
Renee ducked down so fast she almost lost her balance, her heart racing rapidly as the pounding on the door grew angrier. She panicked, blurting out the first stupid thing that came to mind.
“Renee no here right now!” she called in a high, squeaky voice. “I just clean house! Please come back later!”
The words came out ridiculous, and for a brief moment, everything went silent.
With a guttural “urgh!” Matthew slammed his fists on the door, his anger echoing through the corridor.
“Open the f*****g door, Renee!” He yelled whilst he slammed his fists against the door again, hard enough to make the hinges rattle. “You’re responsible for my brother’s death, you f*****g witch! I’ll make sure everyone knows it! I’ll ruin your life like you ruined my family's. You can count on that, even if you want to hide like the p***y you are.”
Renee’s expression faltered, a flicker of guilt crossing her face. It wasn’t her fault; not really, but the thought still made her stomach sink. She backed away, pressing a hand over her mouth to stop the sob that was already forcing its way out.
“I can’t catch a fricking break today,” she whispered under her breath.
The thumping on the door went on and on until he whacked the door a final time and sighed so loudly the next town over could hear it.
“You can’t hide forever,” he threatened.
After a few seconds, his footsteps faded down the hall. Renee stayed there, forehead pressed against the door, listening to the silence he left behind. When she was sure he was gone, her knees buckled. She slid down the door until she hit the floor, trembling.
The tears came harder than ever, and they were ugly, unstoppable. The guilt of turning Evan away ate at her, piece by piece. His face wouldn’t leave her mind. His last words. The way she’d pushed him away when he needed her most. She couldn’t breathe.
Frozen in place, she screamed. No words, just pain tearing out of her like something breaking loose inside. She threw herself onto the sofa, buried her face in a pillow, and screamed again until her throat burned.
If she’d helped him. If she hadn’t been so angry. So proud. So hurt. She could have prevented this.
Renee cried for what felt like hours, months of pent-up pain pouring out of her. The tears kept coming until her body stopped cooperating, leaving her with nothing but the sound of her own grief.
She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, something inside her tugging, pulling her towards escaping from this hell.
Blurred by tears and running on pure fight-or-flight, she stood up and started shoving things into a bag: clothes, a few essentials, her phone charger, keys, purse. She didn’t have a plan. Just the frantic, overwhelming need to get away for a while… and a car that might take her anywhere, if it held together long enough.
She drove for miles with the same sad song on repeat, one her mom used to play when she was little. She must have listened to it fifty times, maybe more, before her focus snapped. A black sports car suddenly swerved out in front of her like she didn’t even exist.
“What the—” she yelled, slamming her foot on the brake. “Do you have a f*****g death wish or what?”
She followed the car for a while, slowly picking up speed—until it suddenly slammed on the brakes. Renee didn’t even have time to react before she crashed straight into the back of it. The crash jolted her forward, the seatbelt cutting across her chest.
Her hands shook on the steering wheel as a surge of rage pushed her to throw the door open and step out onto the sidewalk.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she snapped, storming toward the driver’s side of the other car.
The driver’s door opened.
A man climbed out. He was tall, impossibly composed for someone who’d just caused an accident. Black suit, crisp white shirt, black tie, silver watch glinting under the streetlights. His hair was dark with a slight curl that fell forward when he moved. His eyes, a shade of icy blue, verging on almost grey, met hers. For a moment, something unreadable flickered across his face.
He looked angry at first, but then his expression shifted. The corners of his mouth twitched, like he was fighting back a laugh.
Renee frowned. “Um… uh… so how do you want to do this?”
He tilted his head slightly, taking a slow step closer. “You always open with that line?”
She folded her arms. “This isn’t funny, you nearly killed me. What the hell were you thinking?”
“Nearly killed you?” He questioned, amused, “That’s a little bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
“Oh, sorry, next time I’ll try to make my near-death experience sound more casual, shall I?”
He smiled at her like he knew something she didn’t. “You really haven’t changed much, have you? Part of me is glad, I think?”
Her brow furrowed. “I’m sorry—what?”
“Nothing,” he teased. “You just… look familiar.”
She studied him, taking in the smugness, the confidence, the air of affluence. He had that look of someone who’d never had to work for anything a day in their lives.
“Do I?” she said flatly. “I meet a lot of rich assholes at work; it’s not easy to keep track of everyone.”
That made him laugh softly. It wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t kind either. “Still got that mouth,” he said, half to himself.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged. “We went to school together.”
Renee blinked, thrown off by what he said. “Uh, no, we didn’t. I think I’d remember you if we did.”
“Yeah, we did.” He mused. “You used to sit near the window. You’d always sit and doodle, and you’d literally hiss at anyone who tried to mess with your weird little photos.”
Something was unsettling about it, him knowing things about her, when to her, he was still a stranger. She searched his face, trying to pull a name from the fog. “Lucky guess. I remember everyone I went to school with, and I do not remember you.”
“Oh, you do,” he said quietly. “You just don’t want to.”
There was a pause before Renee laughed once awkwardly, “Okay, whatever. I’ll call my insurance company. You can call yours. Let’s not make this weird.”
“It’s a bit late for that,” he murmured, still watching her with that faint, knowing smile. “But hey, take my business card. Contact me and we’ll sort it out.”
Renee took the business card from him cautiously. “Uh, thanks,” she said.
She turned back toward her car, but he called after her.
“Oh, also, for what it’s worth,” he said softly, “you look better than you did back then.”
She stopped and slowly looked over her shoulder. “Back then?” she repeated.
He just smiled again, that same maddeningly smug one, and said, “See you around, Renee.”
- Writer
