Chapter 96

* Janie *

I’m not going to make it. The pain is too intense, and the thoughts running rampant through my head aren’t helping. I need to get out there and do something, call someone, but there was no one. I never knew how lonely and sad my life was until now. Who would’ve imagined just a few short weeks ago that my life would come to this? I certainly didn’t.

I had everything so well thought out before; there was no way for me to fail, at least that’s what my parents had assured me of, along with that dumb witch or whatever the hell she was. I’d put all my hopes and dreams in them and believed them when they told me it was a sure thing.

Now, none of these people are here to hold my hand. In all fairness, I can’t really blame my mother. The little bitch had threatened us both if she ever crossed this door and Mary and Scott were gone. Those two would be the only ones I could remotely trust to turn this thing around in my favor; they’d done it before.

Every time Ryder had started slipping out of my grasp, one or the other of them would find a way to rein him back in, but now there was no hope. I should’ve paid closer attention. It was easier in the beginning. Back then, I had the adoration of his fans and the pain and suffering of that Elena bitch to keep me warm.

I didn’t know then that the novelty would wear off and that I would become trapped in a web of my own making. My only purpose in the beginning was to keep Ryder away from her, to have him for myself. After the wedding I stupidly believed that with the hard part out of the way, things would be smooth sailing from there on out.

But how was I to know that the loneliness of living with a man who outwardly hated me on his better days and wished me dead on his worst would get to me? Because of that loneliness I’d sought validation and comfort in the arms of someone else. I’d felt safe taking my eyes off of him because he spent his days wallowing in the past, high off his ass from sunup ‘til sundown.

How was I to know that he’d find the strength to fight his own damn demons and slip my well-placed noose? And why the hell is my mind so sharply vivid at a time like this? Beneath the pain of withdrawal, my life kept replaying itself like an old black-and-white movie.

As I laid curled into the fetal position on the bed, my body wracked with pain, and my mind flitted from one memory to the next until I wanted to scream, but I didn’t have the energy left to do even that. After the call from Mom, which is when I learned about the stipulation of her banishment from the house, I crawled my way up the stairs.

That Jessica person had made herself scarce, probably well aware that I was itching for a fight, and she couldn’t even give me that. It’s not lost on me that I’d sunk as low as a person could go. I was now at the mercy of someone I had always seen as beneath me. No doubt MengeLiNi had planned this all out with that very intent.

For someone I’m convinced is no older than twelve, she’s very vicious. I can believe that she’s as young as that because I was once that age. In fact, it was about that time that my obsession with Ryder began. Though as time went by I realized that my obsession didn’t end there. There was just something about the love those two shared that I wanted.

That’s why watching Elena suffer, helping drag her name through the mud from behind the scenes, and keeping a running campaign of hate and agony going against her had given me such warmth and comfort in the early days of my marriage.

I loved knowing that I had taken the thing she loved most, and there was nothing she could do about it. It’s not my fault that the public believed the well-placed stories I’d planted and ran with them. Neither was it my fault that her man had believed my lies. If he really loved her, he wouldn’t have now, would he?

So what had changed? Why had he suddenly seen beneath my mask? I was sure that it never slipped; at least I wasn’t that stupid. But something had to have happened that set him on the trail to recovery. And why, as soon as he recovered, did he run back to her?

I’m sure those are the very questions the public will start asking themselves, especially now after that press conference where he shared everything and then some. I never expected him to do that. If there’s one thing I know about the industry, it is that no one ever tells the real story.

No one ever takes the blame with anything more than a shoddy apology but no real substance. But today Ryder had bared his soul and thrown me to the wolves. Now that I think about it, staying behind closed doors might be the best thing for me all around. Now that everyone knew the truth about their breakup and my part in it, it wouldn’t be long before they were everyone’s favorite couple once again, and I, of course, would become the villain in everyone’s eyes.

“Are you in pain?”

‘What is it to you?” I glared at her as she stood in the doorway.

“Well, you’re screaming loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. Unless you want someone calling the cops, you should probably keep it down. You wouldn’t want the press knowing where you’re hiding out, do you?”

“Screaming?” I wasn’t screaming; was I screaming? “Why is the bed so wet? Did you do this?” Why is she just standing there shaking her head at me? I sat up and fell back immediately as the room spun. The bed was soaked, and I realized almost absently that it was me; I was sweating profusely, and my body felt heavy, then light, then heavy again.

“What’s happening? What’s going on?” Instead of an answer, she huffed and rolled her eyes. “I’ll get you some soup.”

“I don’t want anything from you. I don’t trust you.” I felt something warm on my fingers and realized I’d scratched myself until I tore the flesh.

“It’s all part of the service.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? Part of my reason for being here is to keep an eye on you while you detox from whatever the hell you’re on.”

“Why would you do that?” That doesn’t make sense. Why would she, of all people, help me? It must be some sick joke thought up by that twisted little bitch.

“Because I’m not you. I don’t like to see people suffer, not even my worst enemy.” She closed the door and left before I could answer her. It doesn’t matter; I wouldn’t eat anything she made if it was served on a gold plate. Besides, I wasn’t hungry anyway.

I gagged and tried getting out of bed in the hopes of making it to the bathroom in time to throw up, but no such luck. I threw up so hard it felt like my chest would cave in, then I blacked out. She must’ve heard me hit the floor because the next thing I knew, I was sitting in the shower with the water running down over me, still fully clothed, as she sat on the closed commode looking at me.

I didn’t bother asking her what happened again; I could take a wild guess, though this had never happened before, not to this extent anyway. Just another blatant reminder of my new reality. That thought just led me down the rabbit hole of self-pity when I remembered that I no longer had access to Ryder’s millions and never would again because he’d tricked me into signing those divorce papers.

It couldn’t possibly have all gone this wrong. Maybe I was having some kind of psychotic break, and the last week had been nothing more than a dream. Maybe I’ll wake up soon, and this would all be something to laugh about. Of course, I mean, in what reality would the girl I bullied in high school come back into my life years later as a well-established businesswoman who was doing better than me?

Those kinds of things only happen in movies. Maybe I’ll wake up from this, and things would have gone back to the way they were, the way they were meant to be. But no, this feels real; the pain is real, and I can see the water running down my arms.

I got lost watching the rivulets and, for the briefest of moments, felt a semblance of peace. “Maybe you should get out now; you’re all cleaned up.” I looked at her through half-slitted eyes. I’d forgotten she was there. What did she mean cleaned up?

My head lolled to the side, and I saw the dregs of something soggy going down the drain. I’ve been hung over enough times to know what vomit looks like, and that was pretty close, if not the real thing. When did I throw up?

I stumbled upright and almost barked at her when she reached out to help, but I bit my tongue at the last second because I’d have fallen flat on my face if I got my way. She helped me back to my room and even got me out of the wet clothes before rummaging through the bags to find me something else to wear.

“Who bought these disgusting things? I want my real clothes. What happened to my clothes?”

“I’m not sure, but from what I’ve heard, your old home has been quarantined, and no one can get in there, so you’ll have to wait on that.”

“What? But they’re mine.” I didn’t appreciate her long-suffering look or the way she dismissed me as if my words didn’t matter.

“Besides, the way things are looking, nothing that’s there belongs to you.”

“What are you talking about now?”

“Well, according to Ryder Sumner, you basically committed a host of crimes to get him to marry you, which means your marriage might not even be real. Therefore, anything you attained during the marriage is null and void, so technically, you don’t have any clothes.”

What the hell is this bitch saying? “Didn’t you know that? I thought that was the reason you were in here screaming. It’s all over the internet.” She was only too happy to impart that little tidbit before leaving the room. I think I even heard her whistling her way down the stairs. I hope she falls and breaks her neck.

***

I’m not sure how many days later it was or even what day or month we were in when I had my next clear thought. I’d spent the last few days locked away in this room wallowing in self-pity; that’s when I wasn’t throwing up or shaking so hard I was afraid I would break. No matter how much I begged and pleaded, she refused to give me anything for the pain, except for the detestable soup she kept trying to force on me.

I did what I always do these days and reached for my phone. Like a moth to a flame, I went searching for the latest news about Ryder. He and his bitch were all anyone seemed interested in these days. I used to enjoy how fickle the world was when they were eating up my planted stories, but now I wonder why they couldn’t find anything more interesting to report than the latest tidbit about their new ‘it’ couple.

As I read the latest headline and saw their smiling faces right beneath the caption, the happy couple, something inside me, died, and then the anger came, such anger that I almost flung the phone across the room. Thankfully, I didn’t have the strength needed to lob it that far.

In the end, that was for the best. The longer I stayed there fuming with anger and hate, the clearer my mind seemed to be. I didn’t see how flustered I had become or how my emotions ran the gamut from one extreme to the next.

One moment, the anger was enough to strangle me, and the next, I was smiling from my heart. I knew just how to wipe that smile off her stupid face. Let’s see how Miss. Goody Two Shoes come back from this.