Chapter Seventeen - Ava

Biting what’s left of my nails, I pace the kitchen floor, and sometimes drive myself batty by walking in small semicircles. I’m going to tell him when he gets back. I have to, because it’s eating me up inside, and that can’t be good for the baby.

“He wants to be with me, he said so himself. I don’t have to worry about it anymore,” I convince myself out loud, but where is he? And what is taking so long for him to get back?

Already, it’s been two hours too long. My phone pinging jump-starts my heart, which is already on a cliff’s edge. Scraping up my phone from the expensive marble kitchen benchtop, the housekeeper stares at me with curious interest.

She probably thinks I’m crazy, and in this moment, that’s what all this feels like.

An assortment of pictures flood in from an unknown number, via a link. Squinting, I hit the first link opening to a picture of me with my mouth slackened open, my eyes closed with a blanket up to the top of my body. My heart freezes up as I stare in horror at my phone, a strange man in bed under the covers with me, kissing the side of my face, and it’s obvious I don’t have a top on, because the blanket is low enough to show my bare skin. Dimitri has tattoos. It’s not him. Deliriously, my brain caves in thinking back to the night and how it could have happened. This man doesn’t have tattoos. I check the photo again, my eyes welling with water. Nausea swirls through me as I keep staring at the horror show. This time the guy’s making a lewd face, his leg covered over mine.

And the reel keeps on going as another picture comes in. I hit the link again, unable to believe what I’m seeing. “No, no, no,” I let out in hushed disgrace the next link with the blanket a little lower, the outline of my areola on display. Dry heaving, I check one more time wanting it not to be real. Was it Photoshopped? Did they Photoshop my top half?

No . They couldn’t have. It looked too real. The real size of my chest. No. She wouldn’t do that to me. Not my best friend. Why would she? Fuck. How? There’s too much to process. In a panic I run out of the room to the bedroom bathroom vomiting up my breakfast and sobbing into the mirror as I rinse out my mouth.

Please don’t let it be true. Through dizziness and a dry mouth, I squint in the mirror attempting to make sense of the links. What’s really going on right now? Washing the cool water over my face again, the panic stations inside me drive upwards as I race back out retrieving my phone and bullying myself to look at the photos once more. Yes. It’s me . Somebody took my top off. I was fully clothed in silk pajamas when I went to bed. Sickened by the photos, I check again, taking note of the necklace around my neck. The expensive one Dimitri brought me.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

My eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, and now I can’t wait for him to get home. I want to tell him myself before he sees the photos. To want to be the one to show him and let him know it wasn’t me and I had nothing to do with it. I’d been drugged or something. I want to throw up again as I hold on to the porcelain sink. I’d been drugged. Fuck. The painful realization hits as I remember the funny taste of the cocoa thinking Cindy had tampered with the recipe.

My best friend of thirteen years. Shaking my head, I feel my throat close over. Why would she do this to me? I love her—loved her, past tense.

Rifling a hand through my hair, I touch my stomach glad enough I didn’t tell her about the baby. My gut instincts had been right. The same beverage we happily shared on bone-chilling Chicago nights as we talked about our hopes and dreams of making there.

Sick to my stomach, I stay hidden in Dimitri’s room, not wanting the staff to see what a distraught mess I am. I draw up Dimitri’s number wanting to call him, but I think better of it, just wanting to see his face, so I can explain everything. Even if I don’t know what I’m explaining.

A painstaking half hour later, a dark shadow eclipses the door of the bedroom as Dimitri enters, his energy hostile and stormy. He throws his keys on the bedroom dresser, his icy blue eyes glaring at me in disgust. His collared shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, showing off the river of veins in his arms, his fists balled up, his mouth twisted in silent rage.

“Hi,” I gush, standing up and rushing towards him. He forcibly shoves my hand down from his chest, the ice from his eyes cutting me.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.”

“Dimitri….” I trail off, thinking of the best way to explain everything. He’s seen them. He must have, otherwise he wouldn’t so be nasty towards me.

“Don’t say my name out loud. I saw the fucking pictures, Ava.”

“Dimitri,” I shout, but my voice comes out all mixed up and garbled. “I can explain.”

Dimitri scoffs, raking a hand through his hair, skimming his hand over the dresser drawer, shoving folded clothes off it onto the floor. He’s so angry, and I hate to know what he’s going to do next.

“I bet you can explain,” he spits. “Go right ahead, explain to me how you slept with some random. Is this what you do, Ava? Sweet, sweet wholesome Ava?”

“Dimitri?” I plead with him in anguish. “You can’t believe those photos. I didn’t do this ! All I did was drink cocoa on the couch. I felt funny. My head was fuzzy, but I thought it was the other thing,” I say, touching my raging hot forehead, my upper lip beaded with sweat.

“What other thing? Oh, you mean the dick in your face? No wonder you wanted to get away so badly, huh?” Dimitri spits out, his attack stabbing me like a deep knife. How can he think I could do this to him?

“Dimitri. Please! ” I shriek, but he won’t look me in the eye.

“Come out of my room, Ava, because your little friend isn’t willing to corroborate your bullshit story.” Dimitri’s shoulders slump as he freezes me out, swinging the door open as I walk behind him, shuffling along. It’s only getting worse because she’s here. In the fucking house.

“ You stupid bitch !” I cry out as Cindy shifts the sleeves of her windbreaker down over her hands, a sheepish look on her face. Her black hair matches her soul, and I’m not angry, just sad—too sad that she would stoop so low.

“No, Ava. You should tell him the truth.” She shrugs her shoulders blatantly putting on an Oscar-worthy performance in front of Dimitri. He must have cleared the kitchen because there’s nobody else in it, but us.

“What truth? That you drugged me!” I yell as Cindy shakes her head in pity at me.

“Ava. That’s such a lie and you know it. Your eyes were open. It’s okay,” she expresses, Dimitri buying her suitcase of lies a little too quickly, and it’s hurting my heart.

If you only knew what I’m carrying. Us. Part of each of us . “What the fuck happened?” Dimitri blasts Cindy as her shoulders curve in.

“Ava invited a guy over. I don’t know who the fuck he was, but he stayed the night, ya know, after they like— did it. In my bed . ”

“No! You’re lying,” I hiss, barely able to breathe, Dimitri looking at me as if I’m worse than the scum on the bottom of his shoe.

“That’s all I know,” Cindy protests, pretending to be scared, backing off with her hands up. “I told you everything I witnessed, please don’t hurt the messenger. Sometimes Ava and I do drugs together, and maybe things go a little out of hand, ya know?” Cindy launches deeper into the made-up story, justifying drugging me, and now it’s her word against mine, but in reality, mine should stand up.

But Dimitri’s feet are frozen in place, his jaw wound so tight, he’s scaring me. We just went from confessing our feelings to this. Like everything else, it’s happening too fast, and the room’s moving too fast as well. The stress is going to do me in. Hanging on to the chair, Dimitri speaks to me as if I’m a stranger.

“I knew you were too good to be true. Petrov, fucking get her slut friend out of here.” Petrov swoops in from the other room nearby, surprising me by his close proximity.

He grabs Cindy around the elbow, shoveling her out the door just as memory flashes of Dimitri’s mother come back to me.

“Leave him alone or I will do it myself.” Ekaterina. This was all her doing. She wanted me out, and she got me out. Emotions are running sky high, but I don’t have nearly enough strength to be able to defend myself, but I do my best anyway as a stony-faced Dimitri stands propped up next to the kitchen island.

“Dimitri, don’t you trust me?” Opening my palms, I beg him as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Trust you?” His eyes glower, bitterness riding on the crest of his voice. “There’s nothing to trust, Ava. The pictures are all the evidence I need, and they speak for themselves. What’s fucking left to say?”

Choking up in sobs, I shake my head, begging with him, too caught up in emotion to get my words to come out straight. “No, you can’t—can’t believe her. I wouldn’t sleep with someone else. Only you!”

“Ava. You’re naked under the covers and it’s not digitally altered. I had the photo cleared and checked. It’s fucking time stamped. You must think I’m fucking stupid.” His face changes, and it’s so frightening I move back a couple of steps. “At the same time, you were there at Cindy’s house. I brought her here, so you had a chance to clear your name.” He thrusts a nearby chair over in rage, the resounding thud making me jump.

“But it’s not true! The cocoa! She—she….” As I choke on my own words, Dimitri leaves the room, returning with a thick stack of documents and colored tabs, dropping it on the table.

“I need you to sign these documents. Do it now, Ava. No stalling.”

I’m done in, a dark haze of sadness covering me. I don’t want to contest anything, but I’ve already read over it with a fine-toothed comb anyway. I know what I’m agreeing to, but now I can’t have the rest.

Shakily, I sniffle, a tear plopping onto the document. I sign it, but as I do, I can’t help but think I’m signing away any hope of ever being with Dimitri ever again right along with it.

“Good.” Dimitri signs as I sign a second copy with him handing it to me. Alarmed by what he does next, he reins me in, his anger palpable. “Now, I suggest you go someplace far fucking away. If I see your face again, I won’t show mercy. Do you understand, Ms. Knight?” he grits out, my heart broken.

“Yeah, I understand,” I tell him sadly.

“Now. I want you to get the fuck out of my house. For fucking ever.” He points to the door, my world cracking apart as I walk out with just my cell phone. There’s no point trying to collect my stuff, and I don’t want to.

Ironically, I was the one who wanted to escape at first, and now I’ve been kicked out, pregnant, betrayed, emotionally wrecked.

Raven’s Peak has officially ruined my life. Go me.