I walked, my fists clenched so tight while shoved deep into my hoodie pockets. The frantic pain in my heart was like a physical ache, a drumbeat of a stupid question, "Why…" I muttered under my breath, voice cracking. "Why does everything I touch fall apart?"
The streetlights blur in my vision. I didn't even know if it's rain or tears. My chest felt tight, like something inside me is trying to tear its way out.
I stumbled to a vacant street bench and collapsing onto it like my legs couldn't carry me anymore, the cold of the metal seeping through my sweatpants. I needed to calm down, but my thoughts were a swarm of angry hornets.
The city buzzed slightly around me, cars in the distance, wind brushing against the old trees, the soft rhythm of life continuing while my own felt stuck.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. Hazel. I pulled it out, saw her name lighting up the screen, For a moment, my thumb hovered over the green button, but then I powered it off. The world went silent, save for the distant hum of traffic.
I leaned back, eyes tracing the night sky that's clouded and heavy. Why does every decision, every attempt at something good, take such an unexpected, painful turn? I whispered, voice rough.
The air was cold, but I barely felt it. My gaze fell on a homeless man sleeping under a pile of newspapers on a bench across the path. He looked peaceful. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Maybe even he has a more peaceful life than I do. No expectations, no one to disappoint, no one to hurt him. Maybe even he doesn't think this much.
I thought getting my own place would be the fresh start, the foundation for a better life. Instead, everything was falling apart just as it was being built. The thought of Hazel, the connection I felt, the way I had truly started to… love her. The word sent a fresh wave of furious pain through me.
The rage began to take shape, turning from a hot, messy emotion into something cold, and dangerous. A familiar hum started in the back of my mind. The power. It had been quiet, waiting.
Why am I doing this to myself? I thought, the idea landing with the force of a revelation. Why am I letting one woman shatter me when I can have any woman I want?
The pain didn't vanish; it transformed. It became fuel. It became a dark, motivational force.
No. The voice in my head was no longer my own pitiful whimper; it was the voice of the shadow, the voice of control. No woman will ever have this power over me again. No woman will ever make me feel this small, this weak. This ends now. This pain is a choice, and I choose to stop feeling it.
I stood up, the cold resolve settling in my bones. I walked through the quiet, peaceful streets of my new neighborhood, barely seeing the buildings, the trees, the other lives happening behind closed doors. I didn't know my neighbors. I didn't need to. I let myself into my new apartment, the silence of my new room feels heavy but calm. There was no Jean, no Hazel and no one to answer to. Just me and the power.
I fell into a deep sleep, my dreams a chaotic mix of Hazel's tear-streaked face and the seductive, blue-tinged whisper of the void.
---
The next morning, the sunlight was slipping through the curtains. I turned my phone on, and it immediately chimed with a cascade of notifications.
Hazel (3:14 AM): Luke, I am so so sorry. I don't know what to say.
Hazel (3:22 AM): He just won't leave me alone. I ended it, I swear I did. I never meant for you to get hurt.
Hazel (7:01 AM): I understand if you hate me. I'll see you at work. Please just… let me know you're okay.
I read the messages twice, maybe three times, my heart a block of ice. I felt nothing. Or rather, I refused to feel anything. I didn't reply.
Work was a study in forced routine. The air was thick with unspoken words the moment I walked in. Hazel was already at her desk, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. She looked up as I passed, her expression showed a desperate plea. I gave her a professional nod and nothing more, my face showed sign of indifference.
I saw the pain flash in her eyes before she looked down. It was difficult. A part of me screamed to go to her, to fix it. But the newer, colder part, the part that had solidified on that park bench, held me back. We had to focus on work, regardless of the personal earthquake between us.
The morning dragged on in a tense silence until Anna's voice cut through the floor as she walked in. Bright, confident and radiant as ever, plus that teasing smile like she already owns the room.
"Alright, everyone," she said, clapping her hands. "Reminder, the event this weekend is confirmed. To celebrate, the company is hosting a formal gala this Saturday night at the Grandview Hotel. There will be dinner, dancing…. And yes," her voice lifts in mock drama, "you can bring your partners. Try not to scare them away with office gossip." A wave of excited chatter spread through the office.
My eyes, however, were fixed on Anna. I watched the way she held herself, the confident curve of her smile, the effortless grace of her movements. The cold part of my mind, now in the driver's seat, began to whir. She's perfect. Untouchable. The ultimate prize.
My thoughts were snapped back to reality when her gaze landed directly on me. "Luke," she said, her tone crisp as she smirks. "A word in my office, please."
What now? I thought, a flicker of the old anxiety surfacing before I crushed it. As I stood, I felt Hazel's eyes on me, heavy with worry and guilt. I didn't look back.
Inside her office, Anna closed the door and leaned against her desk, arms crossed. The teasing glint was back in her eyes. "So. The bed fought back again yesterday? You look… better than the last time I saw you, at least."
I forced a small, easy smile. "It was a tough opponent, but I won the rematch."
She chuckled a pleasant sound. "Good. Because it's noticeably more difficult around here when you're not at your desk. Things… falter."
My mind latched onto her words. So they see it. They see my value. They actually notice when I'm gone? I looked at her, really looked at her. The perfect line of her jaw, the intelligent light in her eyes. The power inside me stirred, a serpent uncoiling. It whispered, Try her. She's right here. Make her yours, you could have her if you wanted.
My heart raced a frantic warning. No! If this goes wrong, if she rejects you, you'll be humiliated. You'll lose your job. You'll lose everything.
But the memory of last night' pain was a stronger motivator than any fear. The cold resolve returned, silencing the panic.
"Luke?" Anna's voice broke through my internal war. "Is there something on your mind? You've been staring for a while without saying anything."
The words left my mouth before I could consciously form them, pushed out by the reckless need to seize control. "I was just thinking… you know, you're really beautiful."
The air in the room froze. Anna's perfectly composed expression blinked with genuine shock, her lips parting slightly. A faint blush crept up her neck. "Excuse me?"
My own heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest What did I just say?. I was trembling inside, but I clung to the cold exterior. Finish it. You started this. See it through.
I took a half-step closer, my voice dropping, laced with a confidence I borrowed from the darkness inside. "I was just thinking, with this gala and the plus-one rule… maybe we should go together."
The shock on her face melted, transforming into a wide, completely disarming smile. It wasn't the vacant, placid smile of the ice queen. This was real and intrigued. "Are you asking me out, Luke?"
"I suppose I am," I said, my own smile feeling sharper now.
She let out a soft, breathy laugh, shaking her head in amused disbelief. "You're full of surprises this week." She looked me up and down, her gaze appreciative. "Alright. Why not? It could be fun."
She agreed. Just like that with no hesitation. The rush of power was instantaneous, a pure, addictive drug flooding my system, washing away the last remnants of heartache. It works. Even on her. It always works.
Her face was still blushing. "You should get back to work now," she said, her tone a mix of command and playful secrecy.
I nodded and walked out, my legs feeling like jelly and solid steel at the same time. As I returned to my desk, Mark immediately rolled his chair over.
"Whoa, man. Why are you sweating? You look like you've seen a ghost."
I looked at him, a slow, evil smile spreading across my face, a smile that didn't reach my cold, victorious eyes. "It was a hell of a conversation, Mark," I said, my voice low. "A hell of a conversation."
Mark stared at me, his usual smirk gone, replaced by pure, uncomprehending confusion. He didn't understand. How could he? I had just stared into the abyss, and for the first time, I had liked what I saw staring back.