Fate Rolls Dark by Mark Twain 11
11 Chapter 11
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11 Chapter 11
“You took so long to come,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’ve been waiting. I know I was wrong. I’ll cut Chloe off completely. I promise. Just… forgive me. We can get the license as soon as I’m out of here, okay?”
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Chloe scrambled up, shaking grapes from her hair. “What are you saying?” She pulled out her phone, shoving the “Instagram official” photo in his face. “Look! We’re together! You love *me*!”
Ethan’s face twisted with annoyance. He pushed her away, his eyes never leaving mine. “That was a mistake, Lauren. She took that when I was drunk. It meant nothing.”
He struggled out of bed, his hospital gown flapping, and dropped to his knees before me, clutching the hem of my coat. “It was always her, poisoning me against you. Telling me you were cold, that you didn’t love me. I’ll never speak to
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11 Chapter 11
her again. I’ll do anything. Just don’t leave me.”
“No,” I said, the word final and absolute.
I pulled my coat from his grasp, brushing off the spot where his hands had been. “Ethan, every time you chose her over me, every time you let her humiliate me, you killed a piece of what I felt for you. There’s nothing left. No love. No hate. You’re just… a problem I need gone.”
I took a step toward the door. “This is the last time I’ll say it. Stay out of my life. If I see you again, I will get a restraining order.”
His face crumpled. A tear traced a path through the stubble on his cheek. “Lauren, please…”
“Goodbye, Ethan.”
I walked out. As the door closed behind me, I heard a guttural sob, followed by the sound of something-a tray, a vase-shattering against the
wall.
Three months later, a piece of gossip found its
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way to me. Ethan had been hit by a car. He was paralyzed from the waist down.
The driver was Chloe.
After he’d publicly cut her off, she’d snapped. She’d tried to drug him, to force a situation, but Mrs. Carter had found out and called the police. Chloe had fled, her obsession curdling into
hatred.
She’d waited for him outside a bar one night and
rammed her car into him as he crossed the
street.
They caught her. She was babbling about weddings and happily-ever-afters to the
arresting officers, completely detached from reality.
Ethan’s future would be one of pain, confinement, and regret.
But his future, and hers, were no longer my concern. They were a closed chapter, a story with
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a sad, fitting end.
My story was just beginning. The past was a landscape fading in the rearview mirror, and ahead was a wide-open road, mine to design all
on my own.
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