“I went through all this trouble just for you to throw it all away?!” I screamed, slapping him across the face roughly.
My hand stung, but I slapped him once more before my eyes lost the battle and tears poured down my face. A harsh sound echoed the room, a dark red mark imprint on his cheek.
“You made me fall in love with you. And now you want to throw all that away, along with the company.”
He just stared at me sadly, his eyes pleading with me to listen, to calm down.
To forgive him.
But I’ve had enough; I’ve had enough of running around for him, spending countless hours upon hours sorting through hundreds of photos, had enough of seeing him throw away every possible girlfriend ‘ve arranged for him.
“May, it’s not like that, I swear.”
“What is it then?” I asked angrily, clenching my hands to keep from slapping him again.
His lips pressed really tight into a thin line as he just stared; for once he had nothing to say.
“I guess it doesn’t matter, huh? As long as you get your millions, you don’t care if you’ve ruined countless lives. Well, fuck you. I’m done with being your assistant; I’m done with getting everything for you. I’m done falling for you.” I said bitterly, walking towards the door and slammed it shut.
That wanker, that fucking wanker!
So many people are going to lose their jobs, hell I just lost my job. And for what? Millions of dollars shoved into his bank account for the company sell out?
But for me, I lost my job the minute I started to stop hating him.
“May! May! Hold on, please!” I was already outside the entrance, ignoring the flashing lights of the cameras going around me. The paparazzi shouted out things that would never have hurt me before, if I hadn’t felt anything for that back stabbing bastard.
“MR BLAKE, MR BLAKE, ARE YOU BREAKING UP WITH MISS SAUNDERS?!”
“WHAT ABOUT GISELLE ELLIOT?!”
“WHY DID YOU SELL THE COMPANY, MR BLAKE?!”
“WERE YOU IN DEBT?!”
“DID MISS SAUNDERS MEAN ANYTHING TO YOU MR BLAKE?!”
“YOU’VE SOLD OUT YOUR OWN GIRLFRIEND, WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO NOW MR BLAE?!”
Their questions were like slashes against my already wounded heart, I winced as the blinding lights shoved into my personal space and went off, taking pictures of my tears, I struggled to keep my lips pressed into a tight line to keep from sobbing out loud.
To have these animals taking pictures of me at my weakest moment was already humiliating enough, having them take recordings of my sobs would finish me off.
I knew it would be played over and over on gossip tv shows and radios—who listened to radio nowadays—and I would have these animals with cameras on my lawn, staked out and waiting for me to come out and do an interview with them, an exclusive of the decade.
And that’s all I would be, an exclusive on the seven o’clock news, telling them about how I fell for the world’s biggest playboy, how I strained to keep him happy, how betrayed I felt when I found out he was selling the company out, me included.
Oh yes, I can see the headlines now: SOBBING SAUNDERS LEAVES BLAKE PLAYBOY, or SOLD OUT AND HEARTBROKEN.
The reporters, paparazzi and news media were all out here, watching me walk away from Daniel Blake chasing me through the crowds.
Except this isn’t a movie, where the girl realises the man she’s in love with always loved her back, and they both fall into each other’s arms, ignoring the flashing lights as they kiss each other senseless.
“MAY, MAY, WAIT!” he yelled at me, I could hear him swearing at the crowds of people, could hear rough shoves and that insufferable flash sounds, the yelling.
I shook my head and walked faster to an approaching car that was steadily speeding towards me. It was Corby, the man that had warned me about Blake.
Hands shaking, I opened the door and slid in.
“Thank god you came.” My voice broke as I swiped at my warm face, rubbing my aching eyes. Corby was glanced at me, biting on his top lip.
“I’ll be honest, you look like shit.” I laughed, and it surprised me. I was still able to laugh, despite what I was feeling.
“Thanks. I really needed that.” I smiled through the tears that were still gushing down.
“So where to now?” he asked, nodding to himself as he watched out the windshield. I sighed very softly, where was I going to go now?
“Anywhere. Somewhere far from here.” I said, resting my head on the door glass. It felt cold, welcoming in fact.
My face still burned with betrayal, a harsh red in my cheeks I was sure that would take days to soften.
And it was that entire bastard’s fault. My final thought before I passed out— of . . . well, stress, hurt, sleep deprivation, whatever you want to call it that caused it, maybe its broken hearted syndrome—was my boss is a wanker.