Haze - By Andrea Wolfe Page 0,35

was with Jack—and how he had fucked my brains out like Timothy never could have. Oh yeah, that would go over really well.

"You've already slept with him." Timothy stared into the empty bottom of his cup like it was a black hole. His simplicity showed no limits.

"I didn't say anything, Timothy, except that I wasn't comfortable discussing the subject with you."

I half expected him to pause at that moment, but he didn't. He charged straight into battle, guns drawn and ready to kill.

"You're a fucking slut, Effie. That's all you are. I come all the way here for you, and you repay me by fucking some guy you just met off the street." I seemed to have made him unable to make eye contact, at least during that awkwardly tense moment when it would have made his words that much more effective.

His acid tongue burned, that was for sure, but I fought to ensure he didn't hurt me with his irrationality. I had never so much as even considered cheating on him while we were together, making this all the more idiotic. I took a deep breath and sighed, trying not to escalate the situation any further, but also trying to speak with finality. I couldn't leave him with any shimmering one in a million chances that he could cling to.

He was dangling from a cliff—and I had no interest in saving him.

"Timothy, you're obviously upset, and frankly, you're being really offensive. I don't want to see you ever again. You blew your chance." It was so raw, but dammit, it was the truth.

"You don't get to make that decision, you slut." Timothy had never been the religious, purity-seeking type. Had he suddenly converted to something? Church of Hate was my only guess, if one even existed. "You're a whore."

Why the hell did he care so much about my sex life? It was really freaking me out.

I couldn't restrain myself any longer. "We broke up, Tim. It's over. It's been over. You're too stuck living in your own deluded mind to figure it out. You can't just hit play again and expect me to go along. And enough with the fucking slut talk."

By this point, he looked a cobra, ready to strike and deliver a fatal blow. "Fuck you, Effie!"

I stood up."I'm not taking any more of this from you. You're acting like a child, plain and simple. Coming here to talk to you was a big mistake."

"Sit the fuck down," he snarled. "You're going to hear me out—or else." His eyes remained fixed on me with animalistic rage, like something infected with rabies.

Oh, shit.

I paused, realizing he might indeed be threatening me. "Or else what?" I had to feel this out, had to see what options were available and satisfy my own morbid curiosity. As it turned out, I had none.

"Sit the fuck down!" He screamed this time and lunged at me from across the table, his full weight knocking me down into the chair. It tipped backward and I fell onto the floor, my head striking the ground with a hard thud. Tears immediately started spilling from my eyes as the world began spinning.

Fuck you, Timothy. It was the first thought to arrive on the scene.

There was one of those moments, the moments that you see in movies where time seems to stop. The main character (me) was reflecting on her life, thinking about the choices she had made. There was her past—bold flashes of memories involving adolescence; warm, inviting memories only—and then images of her time with her romantic interest (Jack). I suddenly longed for him, wishing more than anything that I had never left the safety of his arms this morning. My mind had that one, singular focus—Jack.

This had been such a stupid mistake.

When I returned to reality, I half expected Tim to jump on me and attack me further, to bludgeon me with literal and figurative insanity. That's not what I saw, however. Hell, I didn't feel it either. I guess the fall hadn't killed me.

Although I was a little disorientated, I heard a very familiar voice shouting along with Tim's. And then Tim was being dragged outside. Several people came to my aid, helping to lift me off the ground. "Are you okay?" Everyone had the same question and they wouldn't stop asking it. Was I really that fascinating?

Attention was always nice, but then again, this wasn't the best situation.

"Dammit," I muttered, straightening out my hair as I also felt the back of my