Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

“Fucking hell, he got you good.”

“No shit.”

I position myself right next to the webcam so Eb can get an up-close view of my purple bruised ass. The bruises run right down my thighs as well, and my front is lashed pretty raw. And as for my tits… wow. They are still mottled red under the skin, amongst the patches of bruising.

I sit down on my dressing table stool with a wince, and Ebony is wide-eyed, shaking her head as she grins at me.

“Ok, I misjudged you there, Miss Newbie. Seems you handled your night of hardcore pretty well.”

“The review sure says so.”

I’m glowing with pride, not embarrassed in the slightest at being nude on webcam in front of my new best friend. I must look ruffled to hell, my hair a mess along with the rest of me since I’ve had virtually no sleep since I got home at daybreak – too consumed by the memories of what User 109 did to me last night. I’d do it all again right now, if my body was up to it. Working my clit in bed in the aftermath was hard enough, though.

“You’re going to be out of action for a fair few days, young lady,” Eb laughs, and I roll my eyes.

“Shame. Hazard of the job, I guess.”

“Yep. You’ll have to hole up with Christmas movies until you recover.”

I still remember the horrible sick feeling I used to get at the very mention of Christmas, just a few weeks ago. Back then the festivities were a terrible prospect, knowing I’d be alone in this crap hole of a room, with nobody to share the celebrations with. But not anymore. I’ve been playing Christmas songs, and ordering presents for my parents, completely enamoured by the thought that in just a few weeks, I’ll be flying across the world to be with them.

I don’t know how the fuck I’ve managed to avoid a webcam call with them all this time so far. I’ve cited everything from work shifts, to Connor’s gigs, to having an upset stomach. I’ve even said I’m getting my hair done last minute, and the stylist can’t possibly change it.

I don’t want to ruin the surprise yet, and seeing them onscreen would foil my plans in a flash. Mum would read my expression a mile off, and I’d likely start blubbing like crazy the very second I tried to make the announcement.

I’ve been sending messages, of course, spinning the best bullshit I can about how great work is and how many chocolate biscuits I’ve been managing to stack on the store shelves, but it’s not going to work for ever… I just want to leave it as long as I can.

Talking of presents, it must be delivery time. A buzz sounds out at my bedroom door, connected to the doorbell downstairs.

“Ooh, is that your mum’s special cushion?” Eb asks as I grab my satin nightgown and wrap myself up as quick as I can. “I can’t wait to see it.”

It’s one of the tackier presents I’ve ordered from online. A sofa cushion with a grinning picture of me, her and Dad on it from when I was younger – all of us in matching Santa Claus dressing gowns. Cringe. Should be cute, though. She’ll love it.

“Call you right back,” I say to Eb and close the call.

The doorbell buzzes again, and I mutter Jesus Christ, patience, as I make my way downstairs to answer it. I haven’t even got my slippers on. There’s another BUZZZZZ as I reach the hallway, and I’m going to curse the driver if he doesn’t give me at least another damn minute to get there. I know they are busy and all that, and I know it must be a crazy time of year, so I’m fine, yeah, I’m ready to give them mercy with a grin, only when I swing the front door open it’s not a cushion parcel waiting for me at all.

It’s Connor, holding a bunch of budget garage flowers in his hand.

My grin dies in a heartbeat.

He looks like a sad puppy with his tail between his legs, shoulders hunched in his tatty leather jacket. I take three steps back, slapping a hand over my mouth in shock, because what the hell?!

“Can I come in?” he asks me. “Please, Ells. I need to see you.”

I’m already shaking my head instinctively, looking at him like he’s from another dimension. One I’ve left far, far behind.

“Ella,” he says, looking at me with the expression I used to adore. What I would have referred to as a meaningful loving smirk, with his eyes locked onto mine. It used to drive me wild.

But not now. No fucking way.

It does fuck all for me this time, other than set a swirl of rage off, right in the bottom of my gut.

“No,” I tell him, surprised by the strength in my voice. “You can’t come in. I don’t want to see you, so take your shitty flowers and get stuffed. I’ll go grab your rucksack, and you can get the hell out of here, back to the lovely Carly.”

“Me and Carly are over,” he says.

I don’t so much as flinch in surprise at the news.

“Great. Then go back to the lovely whoever else you’ve got lined up next. I’m sure you have a crowd of them.”

He’s still holding out the flowers, like they’ll suddenly bloom into miracles.

“I don’t want anyone else, Ells. I made a fuck up, ok? The only one I want is you.”

I could laugh in his face, seriously, but I stare mute, surprised that Connor thinks he stands a single chance with me, crawling back after a fuck up that saw him ditching me for another girl.

“It was never about Carly,” he says. “She sold herself to me with bullshit. She said she had contacts and could get me a record deal.”

That only flames me.

“Right, I see. So it wasn’t a I’ve fallen for someone else, I’m sorry with all my heart situation, after all? It was because you thought she could be a bigger cash cow than me?”

He has the audacity to look offended.

“No, of course not. I got confused!”

I want to push him off the doorstep and send him toppling, all the hurt bubbling deep under the surface. Memories of hating myself for not being good enough after everything we’d gone through. Sobbing here alone while he swanned around gigs with his new princess on his arm.

“Well, I’m not confused in the slightest,” I tell him, deadpan. “I want you to fuck off, and I never want to see you again.”

“ELLA! After everything?!”

“Especially after everything.”

All the months and years I spent trying to support him with all I had. Slogging my guts out to provide us with food and a place to live while he coasted around like the next big thing waiting to happen. I could launch into a tirade, but what’s the point? I could tell him how bad he hurt me, but why give him the ammunition?

So, I don’t. I stand there, with my arms folded across my chest, in a slip of a satin gown with nothing underneath.

It used to be one of his favourites.

“I’ll get your rucksack,” I tell him, but I don’t close the door quick enough behind me.

He follows me upstairs through the crap house we shared, bleating on about love, love, love and how we were going to grow old together and how we still can. I believed his bullshit once upon a time, but my ears are immune to him. My strength is resolute.

He stands in the room we used to share as I hold his rucksack up for him.

“Take it and fuck off.”

“That’s the last thing I want, babe.”

“Babe?” I laugh at that. “Life can be a bitch sometimes, can’t she? I’m sure you’ll cope without me.”

He looks at my new bedding, and my stash of new shoes all lined up neatly by my wardrobe. He scouts the room and sees the new makeup on my bedside table, and the beautiful fluffy rug I got for the floor, fuck the threadbare carpet.

“What’s been going on?” he asks. “Did you get a promotion or something?”

“None of your business.”

“If this is about money, I’ve learnt from my mistakes. I’ll get a job around my gigs. I’ll help out.”

I look at the man I gave my life to, with the token bunch of flowers hanging at his side. He’s still super attractive, with his flicked punkish hair, and his beautiful cheekbones, his lips highlighted with a lip ring. But I’ve seen so much better now. I’ve done so much better now.

“I don’t need you to help out,” I say, and toss the rucksack at him, since he isn’t going to take hold of it. “Maybe you should have done it a few years ago, before you left me in the shit with debt up to my ears.” I pause, looking him up and down, and the rage is dying off inside me now. All I feel is pity.

Poor Connor with his sad dreams, expecting them to fall in his lap rather than truly work for them. Leeching from everyone else to save putting in the graft for himself.

“I don’t want you anymore,” I say, meaning it with all my heart. “We’re over.”

He knows me well enough to know I’m not joking. There will be no changing my mind with a bunch of chrysanthemums and apologies. I’ve cried enough tears over him to last a lifetime.

My ex bites his lip, standing before me like a lost little soul.

“Have you met someone else?” he asks me, and I laugh. Really laugh.

It tickles me so much I laugh my head off. The truth so ironically brilliant that I end up clutching my sides.

“Have I met anyone?!” I ask him through the giggles. “Who cares?”

“I do!” he snaps. “I care a fucking lot!”

I stop laughing and kick his rucksack closer towards him. My eyes must be cold as ice.

“I’ve met plenty of them, actually,” I say. “Now get the fuck out of my bedroom before I call the fucking police, and take your shitty flowers with you.”

He still hovers.

“Please, Ella.” His voice is so weak, he could be on his knees begging me, but I don’t want to listen to it.

“GET OUT!” I shout, and he finally holds his hands up, grabbing his bag and backing away.

“If you change your mind–” he begins, but I’m shaking my head before he finishes.

“I won’t ever change my mind, you cheating piece of crap.”

“Ok,” he says, and the sad little puppy dog I used to worship disappears from my life with his battered old rucksack on his back and his budget flowers in his hand.

The door closes behind him and I press my back to it, heart racing. I can’t believe I just did that. I turned my back on Connor. The man I thought I’d share the rest of my life with. The one I loved with all my soul.

Surely it should hurt more than it does?

But of course it doesn’t.

I’m not just the Ella who fell in love with him and moved on…

I’m a very, very happy girl called Holly now.