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Ethan's Revenge

"You're crazy!" - my friend's voice doesn't distract me, as I sit on the seat and wait for that whore to come out of the shop. "She has no fault, she is a decent woman and still a virgin at thirty." - he insists, as I tap my index finger on the steering wheel, but then straighten my back as soon as he comes out with an envelope in his hand. I clench my jaw and look at her with contempt from head to toe: she wears a lock of her long red hair behind her ear, while looking shyly around, almost frightened by passers-by. I raise a corner of my mouth to her innocence: it will be easier to take revenge on a virgin all composed and without a hair out of place. "She's the daughter of that fucking doctor." - I hold the steering wheel in my hands: "And if I can't take revenge on him, I'll make him suffer through his daughter." hair to ruffle them in frustration.

EmaOqu · Urban
Not enough ratings
62 Chs

11-He kissed me back

I slam the door behind me, leaving my friend and Ian in the living room: they are so sweet that it seems they are made to be together, even if that means having Ethan around for the rest of my life.

I plant my feet on the ground in front of the mirror, looking at my ridiculous image and cursing my mother for giving birth to me with curly hair.

Maybe she too had springs instead of hair.

I show my tongue at my reflection in the mirror, then return to reality and grab the already heated plate on the dresser.

My breathing becomes irregular when I realize the evening I have to spend with Jack.

I get goosebumps at the very thought of having to deal with him, especially after remembering all the time we spent together.

I trusted that asshole for seven years in a row, then he left me, even if part of me tries to justify him.

Instead I do not condone him at all, that jerk!

I grit my teeth at the memory of his last words: I didn't know it was going to be our last supper and I was sure he would ask me to marry him.

I had gotten ready and put on the most elegant and expensive dress in my closet, and for the first time in my life I had decided to arrange my long hair with the straightener.

I thought he had prepared one of the romantic dinners he usually gave me, although he wasn't absolutely the type for red roses and lavish gifts.

But I loved him anyway . I loved him so much that the next day was not enough for me to recover, not even the day after... Or the month after.

I throw the clothespin on the wood of the dresser, letting my curls fall over my shoulders: they are longer than that evening, so much that now they reach up to my lower back, as if I hadn't had the courage to cut them anymore because of him.

Jack.

I had to wait the moment I saw him again in my office to realize who he really is, and I keep wondering how I ever got attached to someone like him, a shitty cocaine addict who has been pissing me all these years.

I start to pass the plate to my tufts, realizing that it will steal a lot of my time, but I do not change my mind and I try to convince myself that I have made the right choice, even if I could not choose.

He literally threatened me, in his own way, but I want to take the opportunity to make him understand who he has lost and who he would have married now, if he had been less proud and idiotic.

I hope with all my heart that he does not get strange ideas into his head, even if his attitude and the strange mischievous grimace he had when he entered my office made me realize that he has changed, and I don't know whether to be afraid of him or not.

'Don't make yourself wait. '- were his last words, as he looked at me with a grin from head to toe.

He knows, damn it! He knows what, if he opened his mouth, I would find written in all the newspapers in New York.

He knows all my flaws and he didn't just force me to become his lawyer, but he has even threatened me to go out with him.

It will not last long ... Yes it will not last long, just the time to have enough evidence to throw him behind bars and get rid of him without thinking twice.

Now I just feel sorry, even if the memory of the nights spent together is not easy to drive away from my head, and neither is his presence.

My father had never liked him, of course, even though Jack treated him with respect, regardless of the constant insults I give my father, who threatened me to ruin his career, not knowing that his career consisted of doing clandestine competitions and passing his free time smoking crap that I could not even pronounce.

But he understood me. He gave me right even when I was wrong just to make me think he cared, without worrying about the fact that I was studying law.

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