Shattered Singer

Chapter 23

Kriss POV:
I had kicked and screamed the whole time while they carried me back. We needed to talk. Although if im being honest, I don't know if I could bare it. I heard them saying 'I love you' to each other. Then I turned the corner and they were standing there kissing.
The guards had been instructed to leave me in my room, and watch over me. I kicked them out thought and locked the room. I'm not a kid that needs to be watched. I'm 19 and I can watch over myself, I'm just heartbroken. And hurt.
Deep down I knew he hadn't let go of her yet. But I had hope that he would. That he'd only love me. The last few weeks I felt that he did. I knew he loved me. Now I don't know what to think. I should of never taken him to her concert. It started there. It had to. America has never come to the palace. Not since the selection ended. That night, when we went backstage we left them alone for a moment. I didn't think anything would happen, and maybe it didn't in the moment. I knew that if he was going to let go, they had to speak to each other and talk everything out. And when we came back her ex boyfriend Zach was there. We thought she was pregnant, I was so happy. Maxon would have to let go. So when he stayed out late it didn't matter. It pains me so much that I trusted him and he was probably hooking up with her. When he hasn't touched me that like in weeks, and I'm his wife. He's only given me kisses. Once in a while they're deep kisses but not always.
I don't know who's betrayal hurts more, America's or Maxon's. America was my friend and knew how this would hurt me, but so did he.
A whore. That's what she is, and it hurts me to say it. Maxon is my husband, he chose me to be his wife. So why would she do this to me. It's not my fault he didn't chose her. Even if they were having problems that day I really don't care. Maxon chose to marry me and if he still loved America when he did,that was still his choice. And to put my emotions and feelings in between that is so messed up. Especially if they're just going to hurt me. I'm not just some toy that can be used until they figure their shit out. Besides I love Maxon I really do. This is the worst thing he could of done to me.
I sit in the bathroom mirror looking at myself sob. My makeup is everywhere. Thick black tears run down my face. My hands are stained with mascara, lipstick, and foundation from wiping my face. When I look into my eyes I see pain, anger, sadness, all the things I would of never thought Maxon would make me feel. I look dirty, and ugly. Looking at what they did to me makes me angrier. I'm not like this, they made me this... this unrecognizable girl. My face gets hot and red. I can feel all my muscles tightening. I want to hurt them. Break them like they broke me. My cries get harder. I cover my mouth to mute the noise. I really don't want the guards hearing me cry and go report it to Maxon. I just hate them, hate them!!!! I stand and walk around the bathroom. I grab a new perfume bottle. Never opened and completely full. I throw it across the room with all my strength. The bottle hits the wall and shatters, releasing the fresh lavender scent. I turn and grab my heels throwing them at the window. It breaks and the shoes go through. With every item that breaks I feel better. I know I sound insane, but it's helping. I grab all my makeup bag and rip it open. Pallets and lipsticks fall out. I pick up a pallet and smash it on the counter, I watch as the pigments fall all over the counter. Most likely staining the marble. I turn towards the bathtub and get a bath bomb. I squeeze it until it breaks in my hands. All the dust getting under my perfectly manicured nails. I grab every bottle in my shower and through them across the room. The sweet smelling liquids flow like a river on the floor. I grab my mirror jewelry box and through it. The mirror breaks on the floor.
This is still not enough.
Breaking all these things is still not enough. I'm still furious. I look around looking for something else to ruin. I look down and see my dress. I spot scissors grab them. I start cutting up the fabric like im hungry. The silk ripped beneath my finger tips. As the seconds go by more and more fabric pools on the floor. It seems like in seconds all of my skirt it cut up. I start to remove layers so I can cut the fabric underneath the tulle. That's when I look up and see my reflection. If I thought I looked bad before, I don't know what to call myself now. I look as if I've gone mad. I put down the scissors and finish striping my dress off. I look for makeup remover and scrub off the remaining makeup with a cloth. All that's left now it some eye shadow. I brush my hair and put it in a messy low bun. I walk out of the bathroom and into my closet. I put on a blush pink nightgown and slippers. After so much crying my eyes feel surprisingly dry.
I sit in the little living space in my room, on my white fur rug. I pull my knees to my chest and hug them, resting my head on my shoulder. I have no specific thoughts, I only feel a tear run down my face.