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FIFTEEN
“Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.”
~William Congreve
I went straight to my old room, leaving the bag for Dante to handle.
It was a huge old house, with ten bedrooms and several living spaces, but while I heard people working (cooking, cleaning, preparing) somewhere in the house, the kitchen and dining room I assumed, I didn’t pass by one soul as I made my way through, which was a relief. I wanted a brief respite before I went straight into battle again, especially here, where every unchanged thing I saw brought back bittersweet memories. From the entryway to the old den where we used to spend hours our senior year of high school watching movies.
All of it was bad, but my old bedroom was the worst. The second I walked in the door, I had an almost overwhelming urge to flee.
I shouldn’t be here, I thought to myself, staring at the dresser that remained exactly as I’d left it, covered in sweet, little knickknacks, almost all of which had been gifts from either Gram or Dante. Every one of those things had meant something to me once upon a time. Years’ worth of Valentines, birthday, and Christmas gifts from the boy that had broken my heart and the woman who had tried to save it.
No matter the circumstances, I should not be subjecting myself to this, I thought, eyes fixated on a small silver key strung across the corner of the mirror.
“Uncanny, isn’t it?” Dante’s voice came from the doorway, mere inches behind me. “She didn’t move one thing. Ten years later, and she was keeping it for you exactly how you’d left it.”
“Like a tomb,” I murmured.
“Or a shrine,” he returned, moving past me, brushing against me like it was nothing, and setting my suitcase onto a large ottoman at the foot of a comfy armchair in the corner by my old bay window.
He didn’t look at me on his way out, but he did stop at the door, clearing his throat, his back to me. “If I were you, I’d search that dresser before my mom gets to it. She’s going to clean this place out fast, mark my words, and everything in this room is yours by right, so claim it now if you want it.”
I waved my hand, dismissing the notion. “She can have whatever she wants. I won’t be taking any of it with me.”
Only his head turned as he leveled me with a hard stare. “You’re going to want to double check that dresser, just to be sure. Trust me.”
I didn’t trust him. Never would again, but I nodded at him that I understood and as soon as he left, closing the door behind him, I went to the dresser and began to shuffle through it.
I knew, or at least some part of me did, what I was looking for. I don’t think I really believed it would be there, but it was a thought somewhere in my mind.
Still, when I found the small, white velvet case I staggered a bit where I stood.
And, as I opened it, I had to sit down at what I found.
How? Why?
He must not have known what was in this dresser, I told myself. He couldn’t have.
And, while I could be a spiteful bitch, I was not a thief, so the first thing I did was track him down to give it back.
I heard his voice before I saw him, but no one else’s, and so I stumbled into them without any time to brace myself.
Blindly I reached one hand out, holding myself up with the wall, the other gripping the small, white box hard enough to imbed an imprint into my palm.
She was facing Dante, her back to me.
He saw me right away, and whatever he was saying trailed away, his attention properly caught at my presence.
At least I had that. No matter what he’d done, how he’d betrayed me, at least when I was there, he couldn’t look away from me.
Not even for her.
She caught on quickly that they were no longer alone, but I had enough time to recover before she turned and saw me.
I hated her like every creature since the dawn of time has hated its natural enemy.
