These Violent Delights

Chapter One:

Stepping into my apartment, the last thing I expected to see perched on my kitchen countertop is a half-naked woman.

            At first, I freeze in the doorway, convinced I've managed to step foot into the wrong apartment. Heavy grocery bags looped on either of my arms, while an escaped strand of hair tickles the side of my face. My mouth dangles open like a fish caught on a line. My eyes quickly scan the apartment, desperate to confirm that I've stepped into the wrong apartment, and this is all some massive mistake.

            A framed photo of Wynn and I hangs on the wall. A photo my older sister, Grove, shot on my film camera during our trip to the beach last year. It became one of my favorite photos of us. Neither of us is posing. He's looking down at me intently, a smile on his face, as I giggle at something he had said. Now, I'm struggling to remember what it was. But I remember that we were both genuinely happy. It was the happiest I had felt in a long time. Life was good. We were good.

            The photo, in fact, confirms this is my apartment and not a mistake on my end. The woman in nothing but her lacy black underwear and breasts hanging out, sitting on my countertop, is in fact real, and once the realization hits me, a gasp escapes my mouth, my arms give out, and all the bags of groceries tumble to the floor. The pasta I planned on making for Wynn and me tonight for dinner rolls across the tiled floor. The garlic bread falls with a smack.

            The girl's head shoots my way, her head tilting slightly in confusion.

            My mouth continues to dangle open, and when I see Wynn step into the kitchen, shirtless with wet hair from the shower and a bright smile on his face as he walks towards the girl, completely unaware of my presence, my stomach twists and turns. My heart thuds loudly in my chest, so loud that I'm shocked Wynn can't hear it.

            I try to find my words. Try to gather my thoughts. Summon my anger. My eyes blink rapidly as tears form in them. I imagine running at them, face full of rage, as I reach out and smack them both. I imagine grabbing nearby décor off the countertops and throwing it at them, then demanding they leave.

Instead, I do neither of these things. Instead, I lamely say: "Wynn?" And my voice is so soft, so lacking in anger, that I hate myself for it. I should be furious. I should be lashing out in anger. But I can't seem to conjure any sort of movement in my body.

            Wynn's eyes dart my way at the sound of my voice. They widen in shock. The girl just looks at me blankly, completely unaware of who I am. Does she think he's single? Has he been dating both of us this whole time? How could he do this to me? To us?

            "Greer, what are you doing here?" His voice is full of panic as he steps away from the girl on the counter.

            "I live here." A tear escapes my eye, and I reach up to swipe it away. Finally gaining motion in my arms. "With you." Why am I reminding him of this? Why am I explaining myself? I swallow down the lump in my throat. My hands begin to tremble. I can't bear to look at the girl again, nor at him, as my eyes move over to our photo from the beach that hangs on the wall. I wish we were still there. This isn't real. It can't be.

            "Shit, Greer, I thought you had class today." He says it desperately. It doesn't even sound like him. He sounds so pathetic. So disgusting.

            "My last class got cancelled." I peel my eyes away from the photo and, without another word, dart for the front door. I pull at my turtleneck, suddenly unable to breathe properly, as I hurry down the flight of stairs.

            "Greer, wait!" Wynn calls after me, and I hear his feet smacking down the stairs to catch up with me.

            Once I make it outside the apartment building, I hurry towards the parking lot, my hands fumbling in my pocket to pull out my car keys. I'm breathing as if I've just completed a marathon, and my heart feels like it's been stabbed repeatedly.