The Sweet Taste Of Rejection

Chapter Four

The Sweet Taste Of Rejection
Nhica Moico
(Edited)

It's my fault, I don't care, 
I can't hate you if you're not here, 
Once you go, never, ever turn around.
I have sacrificed, and then I burned, 
Oh, you gotta live before you learn. 
I wanted the truth, but sometimes the truth hurts,
My angel with her dirty wings, she used to make me smile, 
But she kept all of her secrets locked inside,
In a place I could not reach her, though I tried with all my might, 
And when I begged for something real she said goodbye.

In My Bones, Ron Pope

Chapter Four

            In the art of revenge, sometimes surrender is your best option. Yes, a weakness, but sometimes showing weakness is keen for success. Sometimes you have to let your guard down because every action yields a completely polar and opposite reaction. I surrendered, I discharged a dreadful bombshell, and I don't even know what the fate of my children will be after this. But no matter how hard I fought this battle, I'm still losing. The outcomes I expected weren't the ones produced. And I learned something brand new today. I hated hospitals. 

            The thought consumes me as a warm Styrofoam cup filled with sizzling, smoldering coffee slips into my shaking fingers as I calm my nerves. Musky fumes of antiseptics, rubbing alcohol, and other forsaken medications surround the air; reminding me of Jace's car accident. The day I gave birth to Adam and Jasmine; the day I found out I was pregnant with them. I shook the thought aside and focused on the worried, anxious Vincent; my fingers curling around his shoulder as I attempted to soothe the pain.

            "He's fine, Ames. The doctor told me he was dehydrated, and slightly low on blood due to excess amounts of diarrhea discharge. Food poisoning," Vincent elaborated and my heart skipped a beat. It was beating so fast I worried it would bust out of my chest. I chucked the cup of coffee into the nearest bin and fisted my shaky hands into my hair. Jace insisted on coming, but I didn't have the strength to argue. For the first time in the past three years, I didn't argue with him. Nor thought about my desire for revenge on him.  Something bad and unexpected would throw my master plans down the drain today. I just knew it.

            I brought myself out of my own misery and focused on the present.

            "Food poisoning? How did that happen, Vincent?"

            A shot of alarm raced through me, making my skin tingly and causing blood to gush across my veins. My mind bellowed question after question until they piled onto each other. Did I give him something that I shouldn't have? Was it hidden in the breakfast I gave him this morning?

            I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. I had to be calm and rational. The new Amy Smith would have taken a grip and barked rabid, mad orders at the clientele of this forsaken hospital. But not me. I was frozen in place. I was a statuette. And like a statuette, what I had to do was cal, down and be reasonable because I was the new and improved: stubborn and non-foolish Amy now, not the old and reckless; weak and stupid Amy back then.

            "Chocolate consumption," Vincent whispered. Just then, I realized that Jace was still standing beside me and intently listening to the conversation. I spared Jace a glance, taking a glimpse and soaking in his emotions, his thoughts. His face was wearing a blank expression, in attempt to mask irritation. It was another wary reason that explained why I hated him.