What the fuck?
Shame fills my every cell, and I sob out loud at his hurtful words.
“Get the hell out of my house!” he shouts at the top of his voice, as he loses control.
I turn and stumble. If he hit me with a physical blow, it would have been less painful.
I need to get away from him.
I can hardly see from the tears streaming down my face. I stumble out the front door and look around. It’s dark and starting to rain. I have no idea where to go.
I scurry around to the side of the house and stand up against the wall, hiding. I don’t want to see them… either of them.
“Get out of my house, you lying whore.”
I slap my hand over my mouth to quieten my sobs.
“April.” Brandon comes running out of the house, and I press myself further against the wall. “April!” he calls in the rain. “Where are you?”
Sebastian walks out after him onto the front lawn.
“What the fuck have you done?” Brandon turns and cries.
“She’s been lying to both of us.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Yes, I do.”
“I can’t believe you slept with her!” Brandon cries.
Silence.
Pain lances through my chest.
“Come inside,” Sebastian says.
“I love her,” Brandon cries.
“I know.”
“You’ve ruined everything!”
“She’s not the girl for you. I’m sorry, but I could never lie to you, and I could never keep a secret like that from you. I love you too much.”
My head rests back against the bricks. The rain is beginning to fall harder now, and I taste hot, salty tears on my lips.
What about me?
This is it for us. . . there’s no coming back from this.
He told his son that I’m a prostitute.
My chest tightens. I knew it. I knew it was too good to be true.
“I hate you!” Brandon cries.
“Come inside and hate me.”
Silence.
“Buddy, come on. Inside.”
I’m overcome with shame. I’ve never felt so abandoned in my life.
“Where did she go?” Brandon asks. “April!” he calls out.
The front door slams shut, and I put my head into my hands, crying in silence.
Sebastian walks out to the street and looks one way and then the other. He drops his head and pushes his hands into his trouser pockets. He stands in the rain for an extended time, and then eventually, slowly walks back inside.
The door slams shut, and I sob, my shoulders bouncing as the tears fall.
“Get out of my house, you lying whore.” The shame.
This hurts.
Is that how he sees me? All the time, while I was falling, he saw me as nothing but a whore?
“She’s a prostitute who charges men to have sex with her.”
My breath quivers as I try to hold in my sobs.
I take out my phone and order an Uber. I have to keep wiping my eyes so I can see the screen.
“Because I paid her to have sex with me.”
I’m embarrassed, I’m ashamed and so confused.
I’m fucking hurt.
And the worst part is, he’s right. What he said is all true. Why the hell did I work there?
“Go near my son again and see what fucking happens to you.”
With a shaky hand, I stuff my phone back into my bag and slide down the wall to sit on the ground.
And in the rain and dark, I cry… alone.
The television drones in the background of the hotel room. I’ve been here for three days. I couldn’t stand the thought of returning back to the dorm on Friday night after I left. I still can’t stand it today.
I can’t risk running into Brandon… or Lara. Anyone. What would I say to them?
And I don’t know what to do.
I’ve never been so low.
And not because of what happened on Friday night, but because of what happened in the two weeks before that.
I let poverty take my morals—something that should never have been for sale.
And I met him...
The permanent lump in my throat is big and it hurts, I can’t even think of our time together without crying.
I thought it was special.
Only it wasn’t. I was delusional, seeing something in a man that wasn’t even there.
He isn’t who I thought he was.
That’s the worst part: knowing that I let myself down. I was so blinded by his light.
My vision clouds as the tears come once more.
I’m at the precipice of my life. A turning point. But I just don’t know which way to go.
I want to go home. I want to pack up and return to America to be with my family.
But then this will just be another failure to add to my life.
My mind drifts back to my worst day. The day I came home sick from work and walked in on my beloved husband having sex in our bed with a girl he worked with.
The way he looked up at me… while he was still inside of her.
My stomach drops. I can still see it so clearly—can still feel the pain of my heart breaking. Still see him running from the room with an erection… for her.
I close my eyes and swallow around the lump in my throat, it’s big and it hurts the entire way down.
At least then I had my dignity.
I inhale with a deep and shaky breath, “You’ll be okay,” I say to myself. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” I wipe a lone tear from my face.
But I don’t know if I will be okay.
This cut is deep.
The door opens.
“April.” The woman smiles.
I grip my handbag and stand. “Hello.”
“Come in, dear.” She ushers me into her office. “Please, take a seat.”
“Thank you.” I sit down while she goes behind her desk.
“I understand you are looking to transfer your scholarship to Manchester University?”
“Yes.” I force a smile. “That’s right.”
After a week in a hotel doing some serious soul searching, I’ve decided that I’m not letting another man take something from me. This is my dream, and damn it, I’m fucking keeping it alive.
The woman stares at me for a moment. “You do know that Manchester doesn’t have the credibility we have here in London.”
“I know.”
“I just don’t see why—”
“I need to get out of London,” I cut her off.
Her eyes hold mine. “Are you okay?”
“I need to get out of this campus. I can’t be here anymore.”
She stares at me. “Have you been assaulted?”
I shake my head, trying to keep it together. “Please, just organize the transfer.”
“Are the police involved? Can I get a counsellor to spend some time with you?”
“I’m fine. I just had a really bad break up, and I need to move.”
She sits back in her chair and exhales heavily. “Okay.” She types something into her computer. “When would you like to start?”
“Next month.” I shrug. “It’ll take a few weeks to move and get myself sorted.”
“Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Do you think it will be okay?” I ask. “I mean, do you think I will get in?”