Hailey's POV
Her words leave me stunned, and I stare at Jake, questions burning in my eyes.
Charlotte smirks. "You just had to always get in the way. You were so desperate for his attention, so we let you think that you had finally gotten it."
I face Jake. "Is this true?"
He rolls his eyes. "What do you think? It was all pity. You should be glad I was able to pretend for so long. Do you realize how unbearable you are?"
My whole relationship had been a perfectly orchestrated lie by my best friend. How much could she possibly hate me, if she was willing to go so far and so long, just to hurt me?
"I hate you so much, Hailey," she sneers. "I would go any length, just to see you suffer. You always thought you had it all. Always trying to rub your perfect life in my face. You have no idea how satisfying seeing you heartbroken is."
For a moment, I see the broken girl I met in my junior year of high school. Instead of anger, pity for her overwhelms me. She had an abusive childhood, and I see how much it has twisted her thinking.
I shake my head. "Char. I never tried to show off to you. I wanted to include you in everything because I love - I loved you," I tell her. "I didn't just see you as a friend, but as a sister too."
Suddenly, she lunges towards me, pushing me. I stumble back, not prepared for the encounter, but I manage to regain my balance.
"Stop lying! You hated me! you always did!" She screams. Where did she get that narrative from? "I don't care about what you have to say. Seeing your little perfect bubble burst, is enough for me." Her eyes carry a mixture of satisfaction, and an indiscernible look. Hurt? Regret, maybe?
Leaving them where they stand, I begin packing, taking my time to arrange my belongings. Organizing things always helped me calm down.
Before I go back to them, I leave a special present in the bathroom, for Jake - and Charlotte, if she happens to stumble across it.
By the time I'm done, the tears have already been long gone, replaced with a neutral expression.
I come back to find them standing at the spot where I left them, as they watched me pack. "Are you happy?" I ask Charlotte, my voice flat.
She eyes me, her face briefly contorting in confusion, but she quickly masks it with a cruel smirk. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
I nod, a sense of detachment washing over me. "As long as you're happy, I won't take it away from you."
With that, I walk out of the house. Disregarding my already wet clothes and the pouring rain, I don't bother to fetch the umbrella from my bag, letting the rain on my body reflect how I feel inside.
...
I sit in the club's bar, slowly downing my third bottle of wine. The effects have already started kicking in, and I already feel tipsy.
I'm not one to drink often, but I do when it's needed. Like now, for example. I tried to be strong for a few hours after arriving at the hotel I lodged in, but eventually, the hurt hit hard. So I took the best option for a distraction; drinking myself senseless.
I'm officially all alone in this city. The only friend I managed to keep in all my life, betrayed me with my boyfriend.
I order another drink. Three shots of vodka, this time. I need something stronger to help me forget.
"Another," I tell the bartender.
He gives me a wry look and ignores me.
'Is he judging me?'
"Hey! Bartender," I slur. "Aren't you hearing me? Bring me three more shots!"
He still pretends not to hear, and it pisses me off. I click my teeth. "You are sooo disrespectfullll," I point at him dazedly, twirling my fingers in a circle. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna report you to your manager."
A look of fear flashes across the bartender's features. Yet, he doesn't budge. "Look. You fucking cu-"
I stop speaking, momentarily distracted by a strong, masculine hand settling around my waist.
"Why's such a pretty lady drinking alone?" a deep, drawling voice asks, sliding into the stool next to me.
The bartender takes the distraction as an opportunity to leave.
The man's voice spreads a chill crawling down my spine that makes me tense up. I turn to him, a frown etching itself onto my face. "It's none of your business, okay?"
A smirk twists his lips, a predatory curl. He leans in, the stench of cheap whiskey and cigarettes on him making my stomach churn. "When it concerns a pretty thing like you? Definitely my business."
'Ugh. What a lame-ass line.'
The buzz of the wine starts fading, and my consciousness clears up. "Go away," I groan, waving my hand dismissively.
The man does not take it kindly, his grip tightening around my waist in a manner that makes me stiffen. "Stop trying to be stubborn, baby," he growls, his breath hot in my ear.
Disgusting.
"I know your type," he slurs, invading my personal space, his foul smell filling my nostrils. "Come here looking for a quick shag, then pretend to be all innocent. You're nothing but a fucking whore."
'Is no one seeing this?'
"I assure you, I'm gonna fuck that attitude out of you, whore."
A surge of anger pushes through my fear. I shove him away, stumbling off the stool. "Can't you take a hint? I said no," I manage, my voice trembling but firm.
I snatch my half-empty bottle of wine and flee, the music from the club fading behind me. So much for wanting to drink away my sorrows.
The streetlights cast long, distorted shadows on the pavement, in a manner that makes me uneasy. I've never been a fan of late nights. Instead of ordering an Uber, I brave it, walking my way to the hotel, just a few blocks away from the club.
Footsteps echo closely behind me. My heart hammers against my chest, as I get the feeling I'm being followed.
I fumble my bag, looking for the pepper spray I always carry around. I don't find it. Shit.
I quicken my pace, clutching my bag tightly. The footsteps grow louder as the person approaches me. "Look," I call out into the space, my voice tight. "I don't have anything. Just leave me alone."
"Babygirl," The familiar, revolting voice of the man from the club echoes through the night. I whirl around, a knot forming in my gut. "You didn't think I would let you go, did you?"