I am an asshole. I own it.
What I said was out of line. I own that, too.
She snatches her nightdress off the floor then shrugs it on, not even attempting to be sexy about it, a fact for which I’m grateful. “You think Dash is perfect. You think you love her.” She shoves her feet into those stupid assed slippers then plucks up her panties. “But you don’t. You don’t love anyone.”
She charges up to me, going toe-to-toe, chest-to-chest, while she wags her finger, thong included, under my nose. Her panties reek of recently fucked pussy, and it’s a dickslap in the face.
“You can’t,” she screams. “Bastards like your aren’t capable of love!” Her smile turns arctic, her final words like razor blades. “And even if you were, remember this. She doesn’t love you. She’ll never love you. You made goddamn sure of that, you stupid motherfucker.”
Prudence flings her hair behind her, pushes her shoulders back, and then prances out as if she’s just won the Triple Crown. And that’s when I lose my shit.
I slam my fist into the mirror, not caring that I bought myself seven years of bad luck or that my knuckles are raw and bleeding. I don’t care about anyone or anything because Prudence is right.
Dash doesn’t love me.
She’ll never love me.
I destroyed her once. I destroyed her twice. Then I destroyed her a third and a fourth time. But the final time? She destroyed me.
~See The Evil
Three Wise Men