Strings Attached

CHAPTER EIGHT

I'd spent an eternity under the shower, scraping my skin raw and trying to free myself from her scent. The image of blood disappearing down the drain was engraved in my memory and deep down I knew no amount of water could make me feel clean again.

Turning off the faucet, I grabbed a towel and stepped onto the cold wet tiles. I almost slipped and fell, but managed to catch my balance in the last moment. To my surprise, I wasn't as drunk as only moments earlier. Instead, I felt sober and awake...and so fucking aware she had been a virgin. As I dried my skin, all I could think about was that this horrible situation now became even more fucked-up and complicated.

Stark naked, I returned to the room and of their own accord, my hands covered my crotch, following this ridiculous instinct to spare her from seeing my nakedness now that I knew she had been innocent. As if it'd make a fucking difference. The space was bathed in silence and the shaded romantic lighting gave me the chills as my eyes fell on the center of the king-sized bed. That sudden intention to shield Isabelle from seeing my cock turned out to be unnecessary because she was still lying in that exact same position I had left her in—on her belly and with her head buried in the pillow. And she still wasn't moving; she wasn't making a single sound...she just lay there like a motionless doll.

An unexpected pang of worry appeared out of nowhere, but I pushed it back and reached for my clothes that had been scattered on the floor together with her wedding dress and that white underwear. Flashbacks of my behavior flooded my mind and suddenly, I felt disgusted. Getting even had always filled me with a sense of peace and triumph, but this victory tasted beyond sour and rotten.

When I got dressed, I made myself walk to the bed. Though she still didn't stir, I became aware of her violent trembling that only seemed to have increased as I approached closer. Then, I saw blood...that same dark shade of blood I'd seen on myself coated her inner thighs and there was much more of it on her than there'd been on me.

The sight spilled an endless stream of blackness into my heart and suddenly, I felt tortured; like an angel forever exiled from heaven and thrown into the coldest depths of hell where there would never be any light—only darkness. I didn't know if there was a place where I could escape this feeling. All I knew was that I needed to be away from her...away from that room...away from that hotel.

I was trying to come up with something to say, but there was nothing to be said so I just turned around and left.

***

The staff seemed surprised by the fact that I was leaving their hotel alone and in a hurry in the middle of my wedding night. The receptionist asked me something, but I didn't bother to listen. Walking past her, I rushed to the parking lot and got in my car.

Without looking back, I started the engine and sped off onto the road. Despite the fact that I was extending the distance between myself and that hotel, the feeling of hopelessness continued growing inside of me and it would not recede no matter how much I fought to find a justification for my actions. The traffic lights interchanged before my eyes, but my mind was still miles away, trapped in that room and stuck in that moment when I had a chance to reach a decision. And—as if it wasn't bad enough—the memory of her pleading voice rang in my ears.

Please don't do this...I don't know how to be a wife... I can't...

Suddenly, I was blinded by the strong lights that made me snap out of it. As I heard the persistent sound of loud horns, I became aware of the car that had misjudged the distance between us and took a risk of overtaking another car in his lane as I approached him in high speed. I managed to avoid him in the last moment and—disturbed by the fact that I'd almost gotten myself killed—I pulled up by the edge of the road and stopped the car.