Wearing the Shoes that Fit You - Fan Fiction Eminem

Broken Ties

Morena POV

Slap. Slap. Slap. The sound of my feet hitting the pavement reverberated up and around as I felt each impact with the ground. The base of the song playing in my ears set the pace as I tried to work off every bit of the frustration and tension that had settled into my body.

Five years, I'd been with Curtis. One thousand, eight hundred twenty-five days had passed and, during that time, I'd thought I knew him. Until one day, it became clear that I didn't.

We'd talked about everything. Our future had been practically laying out at our feet. And then, because I got a wild hair one night and bought a piece of paper for two dollars, everything changed.

I'd forgotten about the ticket for a few weeks. It wasn't until I'd cleaned out my purse that I discovered it and then remembered that the winning one had come from my neighborhood. Still, I didn't check the numbers. My luck had never been such that I would have won. So, I tucked it away to look up later and gone about my life.

The day that I finally checked, I'd left work early. I didn't quit, thinking that it would be silly to get too ahead of myself until I'd talked to professionals about how to deal with everything. Instead, my thought had been to tell my longtime boyfriend the news.

I'd thought it odd, finding his wallet on the side table as I walked in the door. My intention had actually been to get a shower and dolled up, expecting that we'd go out to celebrate once I caught him at his job. I caught him alright, but it wasn't at his job.

Like the scene from a movie, I heard the sounds and peeked through the doorway. There they were, naked and sweaty in our bed. My world view changed in that instant. Something shifted inside, inextricably altered.

I hadn't made a scene. Instead, I'd quietly backed away and then left the apartment. Unable to think about what Curtis had done, I'd refocused on what I needed to do.

My first stop was a hotel, because there was no way I was returning to that apartment. Curtis was the only one on the lease, so I could make a clean break if I just did as I had back at the building and walked away. Once I'd gotten a place to stay for the night, I started researching.

It was amazing how many professionals talked a big game when it came to their webpages. I quite literally spent an entire night searching on my phone, ordering room service as I tried to come up with a plan. I was pretty sure I wanted an accountant and a tax attorney. I'd hoped that, if other people were needed, they'd help me figure that out.

Curtis had called when I wasn't home by eleven o'clock. I'd considered ghosting him, but ultimately decided that I'd be happier with myself if I faced him. So, I'd picked up the phone and calmly told him what I'd seen.

He begged me to forgive him. Pretty words and promises had fallen out of his mouth in a stream of consciousness that had been almost impressive. I kept it together, though, and ended it. I'd never be able to look past the betrayal. I'd forever look at him, wondering if he was doing it again. After all, I hadn't had a single clue that he'd been cheating before I'd caught him in the act. He'd missed his calling; he was the best actor I'd ever seen.

When I hung up, I cried for days. I mourned the life that I thought I was going to have with him. I grieved for the future that I was certain we would have had. But, as my tears dried and anger set in, I was thankful. At least I'd learned what a snake he was before I'd told him about the ticket.

After a week at the hotel, I'd secured a tax attorney and an accountant. The two of them suggested that I also get real estate lawyer, as the amount of money coming my way was going to be significant. They believed it wise that I reconsider where I lived. I'd never planned to leave Grand Rapids, but I took their advice and got myself a real estate attorney, too.

Then, it came time to turn in the winning ticket. The fanfare wasn't over the top, as I would have expected given the payout, but the ripple effect was. For months, every time my phone rang, it was someone I knew asking me for money. I didn't have any family left, so it was all people whom I'd considered friends. Most times, they didn't even bother to ask how I was doing. Rather, the first words out of their mouths were a not-too-gentle reminder that they knew me before I'd won.

I'd thought about giving it all away. When the calls kept coming - unrelenting in their demands for a new pickup, a boat, a payout of student loans – I'd seriously considered just writing a check to a nonprofit and being done. My lawyers had talked me out of it, though. They'd put me in contact with an investment company that could do wonders with the money. If I could survive the storm of winning and keep it with them or some other, similar company, they could turn the money into hundreds of millions over the coming years which would help whatever charities I wanted. I'd make a difference that would be more than just a solitary check.

What faith in humanity I had after Curtis had taken a hit to my soul was diminished, but I couldn't ignore their advice. As I worked through all the paperwork and the process of setting up accounts and trusts, I finally caved to what my financial team had warned me about: I needed to move and I needed to change my number, but I could still help people if I just toughed it out.

Six months after I'd purchased that two dollar lotto ticket, I'd paid forty million dollars in taxes and was left with the other forty million dollars and the need to hide. I refused to leave Michigan, dead set against any suggestion otherwise. Rather, I'd pulled up stakes and moved to Detroit.

My house was on the outskirts of a gated community. Although my team had suggested that I purchase inside of it, I couldn't make myself do it. The houses in there were extravagant and large. Every single one I looked at was too big. Buying one would do nothing more than remind me that I was alone. So, instead of getting a place within it, I bought a house just down the road.

The place I now called home was older and charming. It had a lovely, gingerbread look to it. You'd never know that the woman who owned it could have purchased dozens of them.

At first, I'd stayed inside. However, as boredom overtook me, I decided to at least try to get back into the things that I'd once loved. So, two months after I signed the papers that made the little home mine, I began running every morning and night. I became addicted to the runs, letting the sound of my steps tether me, since all other ties had been broken.