Chapter 2. ( HAUNTED BY HER PAST)

Selene's point of view

Six fucking weeks and I haven't been able to get that scene off my head, I haven't been able to forgive myself for being blind to all the signs. I could still see his cold gaze, the smirk on Evelyn's lips the day he threw me out of his house like I never meant anything.

The buzzing of the telephone filled the air, jolting me out of my sleep. I sat up immediately, my gaze falling on the antique silver clock which hung on the wall. It was a few minutes past seven and I was almost late for work.

Life hasn't been treating me real good ever since I moved out of the mansion, I barely had enough time for myself. I picked different jobs, working twice as hard as anyone, just to pay the rent and feed myself.

I straightened my shoulders, rushing into the bathroom for a warm bath, and ignoring the dull ache in my temples. After I was done,I settled for the leftover pancake on the table, before bolting out of the door.

Immediately I stepped outside,the stench of urine, rotten garbage and something almost inhuman assaulted my nostrils. I remained unfazed, I'd gotten used to the cringe scent, that was the only place I could afford. The pavement was a mess, cracked and uneven, littered with broken glass and old needles.

As long as I hated everything about it, I've come to acknowledge it as home, at least it kept me off the streets.

I walked briskly to the bustop and hailed a taxi to the bar. A few hours later, I got the Rusty halo and walked into the bar.

I swallowed the lump which formed at the back, fear clawing at the edge of my heart. I was late again, which was against the company's policy, this was the third time I'd come late and my boss wasn't having it.

The stench of cheap whiskey and cigarettes stung my nostrils, my stomach growling. The room bustled with activities, filled with the clinking of glasses by the patrons and deep laughter.

“Late again Selene,” Anabelle; my co-worker said scoff.

A smile tugged by the side of my lips, she'd always cover me each time I was late and never complained about it.

I sat behind the counter, mixing cocktail and serving whiskey. Despite how composed I looked, despite the calm demeanor I maintained, I had a storm brewing beneath my skin. All my thoughts traced back to him. Damian.

Why didn't I see this coming? How could he even do this to me? The promises? All were lies?

Time they say will heal my wounded heart, but all it has done was make me bleed,make me curse myself over and over again.

“Selene?” a voice called, startling me, momentarily snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Y…Yeah?” I asked, my gaze dropping to the floor, my shoulders shrugging.

She sighed, placing a hand on my shoulders. She didn't need to speak reassuring words to lift my spirit, she dragged me into her bossom, her grip tightening around body, my tears drenching her body.

“You need a break. Go ahead and knock yourself in the bathroom, I'll cover you,” she whispered.

Without another word, I walked out of the bar, my vision obscured by the tears which stung my eyes. The bathroom was serene, a contrast to the storm brewing in me.

“What the fuck did I do wrong to deserve this?” I asked the woman who appeared in the mirror, tears rolling down my red chin.

I'd been the understanding wife,always supporting him, always checking up on him. I knew nothing about his family, his past life but he knew everything about me.

“I want our marriage private,“ he'd requested.

I've never doubted him, always gave him my trust and all he did in return was the take Evelyn; my fucking best friend as his mistress.

“your replacement,” the word never stopped echoing in my head.

My trembling hand reached for the faucet, and I turned it on, scooping the water and splashing it on my face. I felt relieved, all I needed was a break. I dragged out the paper Anabelle had slipped into my pants while hugging me and read the description.

“A party,” I whispered. She'd spoken about a party and I'd turn it down countless times. Maybe this was another opportunity, an opportunity to get a grip of my emotions.

I wouldn't mind skipping the midnight shift, just to get drunk and forget every stench Damian had on me. I folded my lips into a thin line, my resolve building.

The rest of the day passed by in a haze and the day ended. I finished dusting the counter before leaving the bar for home.

A few minutes later, I was all dressed for the night, ready to get wasted and drown my sorrow in alcohol.

The bass throbbed in my chest before I even stepped Inside. Outside, neon lights flickered different patterns, casting eerie shadows over the pavement. I was skeptical about walking in, my fingers digging into the fabric of my skin. It was shorter than what I was used to, clinging to my curve like a second skin.

I stepped inside, and the club swallowed me whole.

The scent of sweat mingled with sweet perfume stung my nostrils as I forced myself into the crowded room.

Eyes followed me the moment I stepped deeper inside. Some were curious. Others were hungry. I kept my head high, ignoring the whispers that slithered past me. I hated it.

I wasn’t supposed to be here.

But where else was I supposed to go?

I moved toward the bar, each step deliberate, each breath forced. My heels clicked against the floor, swallowed by the noise. A bartender glanced at me, his eyes skimming over my body before offering a knowing smirk. I hated that too.

“What’ll it be, sweetheart?”

"Tequila," I said, my voice barely audible over the pounding music.

He raised a brow but didn’t question me. A few moments later, a shot glass was placed in front of me, filled to the brim, threatening to spill on the counter.

I grabbed it, knocking it down my throat in one gulp, the hotness burned down the numbness I felt in my chest and…I liked it.

“Another,” I said, tapping the glass against the counter.

The bartender chuckled but obliged. One shot turned into two. Two turned into three. Just as I was about to gulp in the Fourth one, I felt the edges of my reality blurring, his voice which was dominant in my head was distant, as if fading.

That was the goal, wasn’t it? To drown his voice and become a changed woman, a woman who no longer dwelled in the past.

I exhaled, pressing my palms against the counter, grounding myself against the cold surface. I wasn’t drunk. Not yet. Everything felt unreal but I still had my grip on reality.

I shut my eyes letting the last tears roll down my eyes, the images of our perfect wedding flickering across my mind.

“I love you, Damian,” I whispered to myself.

Just as I was about to take the last gulp which would definitely knock me out, I felt a muscular hand grab my wrist, my drink spilling off.

I froze. That scent was familiar. It was almost like he was close by, closer than I thought. Was my brain making all these up?

I tried to fight it, but the grip was tight, then it occured to me that my brain wasn't making that up.

My eyes yanked open and my eyes locked with his hazel eyes, slowly tracing down his muscular jaw line. He had a stoic expression, his brow slightly furrowed. Before I could say a word, he whispered,

“You are done!”