The Collector

Part 1 Divorce

I slammed the door of my apartment, threw the keys onto the cabinet, and marched straight to the kitchen without taking my shoes off. Opening the fridge, I found its desolate interior held nothing but beers—but that was all I needed right now.

I grabbed a bottle and an opener that was always ready nearby. With one quick move, I opened the beer—the cap flew somewhere onto the floor.

"Bitch!" I growled and threw the opener at the desk. I tilted the bottle and emptied its cold contents down my throat in one go.

I swung and hurled the empty bottle at the wall. "Fucking piece of shit!" I shouted as it shattered on impact. There was a dent left in the wall, and glass scattered all around the kitchen.

Fuck it. Who cares?

I grabbed two more beers and moved into the living room. After putting both of them on the table, I threw myself into the armchair. Only after I got comfortable did I realize that I had forgotten to take the opener. Fortunately, I didn't need it—I opened one bottle on top of the other and swallowed a few deep gulps of the beer.

Still panting from anger, I calmed down slightly as the cold drink worked its magic.

"Fucking bitch," I murmured. Sixteen years of marriage, together for nineteen. I snorted angrily. I had met her when I was seventeen. We had spent more than half of our lives together. And I had been planning to spend the rest of it with her. That's what I promised her during our wedding.

However, it turned out that her promises were worth nothing. Over two months ago, she had announced to me that she was bored with our marriage and wanted a divorce. The worst part of it? She had already found someone new she claimed to love.

As if that wasn't enough, while I was still in shock, she started telling me about him, as if I gave a damn about this asshole.

Bob—that was her new lover's name—made her feel young and special again. She was praising him while I was devastated, thinking about the end of our marriage and how it would change my life.

The moment she admitted to cheating on me, I knew I wanted a divorce and to forget about this bitch immediately. Unfortunately, we had legal matters to take care of. Today, at last, was the final time I would ever have to see her.

I finished the second bottle of beer and this time put it down on the ground. Grabbing the third one, I brought it to my mouth, ready to open it with my teeth, but my eyes fell on the table that stood next to the armchair. My wife—no, my ex-wife—had bought it. I placed the neck of the bottle at the table's edge and hit the cap with my palm. I opened the bottle while tearing off a small piece of the table.

I drank a few gulps while staring at the damaged table. Today was the last meeting with the lawyers to sign the papers. Everything should have gone smoothly. I was supposed to close this chapter of my life. I was ready for that.

However, I wasn't ready for one thing—that bitch brought her new lover with her. It was the first time I had seen him.

He was young, handsome, and athletic—details I had already known from her stories about him. He was ten years younger than us. Stupid bitch, falling in love with someone so much younger than her and thinking she would be happy with him.

He would have his fun with her, but sooner or later he would get bored and get rid of her like trash. How long would he last with her? Three years? Five? She would get old soon, and he would realize that he prefers someone younger. I smiled with satisfaction growing in me—she would be facing the same situation I was in now when he got rid of her to find someone else.

"Karma, bitch," I murmured between sips.

My smile faded from my face as memories from today resurfaced in my mind. I squeezed the bottle tighter in my hand. The presence of her lover wouldn't have been so bad if he had just fucking sat there and observed. Then everything would have been alright.