Damn, He Can't Compare

29. she cheated on you

October 16th, 1986, Party. 7:23. P.M.

I returned to the allocated tables and took a seat. It was a chance for me to check out Roland without it looking like I was. I glanced away for a split second and when I looked back at the pair, I noticed Roland pass over a little piece of paper to Curt.

Instincts inside of me suddenly flipped, I froze in place... he couldn't be... I thought... but when I see Curt whip his head around in my direction, I knew exactly what he was shown. It was the receipt from the terminated pregnancy I got.

The blood completely drains from Curt's face, leaving him with a string line headache splitting across his brain. His bottom jaw clenched open slightly, with his teeth gritting, his eyes could've burnt straight through me at that point. The expression he wore was a indistinguishable agony of betrayal At the very moment, the way he looked would be plastered into my mind for the rest of my life.

It was a sort of mortified, twisted, complete and utter heart shattering face and I was the cause behind it. In a matter of moments my entire world was destroyed. I knew right then I would never ever be able to make it up to him. He hitched back both shots from the top of the bar, before tossing the glasses and storming out of the ball room.

I swallowed the hard feeling in my throat, it burnt the whole way down. An atomic bomb had just been unleashed on my marriage. The room seemed to spin with unease, and out of nowhere I found myself racing outside.

I held onto the brick wall as my insides splurged out onto the pavement below. I spat out the sick bile taste in my mouth, still holding myself up on the wall. I was too absorbed in myself that I didn't notice the shadow cast next to me.

"He had to know." Roland's deepened voice informs me. The fire inside of me blazed harsh, I feel myself swinging around and connect my fist with his face, hitting him so hard my feet stumbled. My eyes blared insanely, "Die!" I spat, "You ruined my life!"

He spat blood onto the ground, giving an amused laugh, like it was all my fault, which it was. I just didn't want to believe it. I could tell he was furious with me, but instead he strolled back inside. I wanted to kill him but had no courage to confront him again. I was already drained and had to find my husband before it was too late. I searched the parking lot high and low for any look alike cars, until I realised he had already left. I call a cab to take me home.

October 16th, 1986. Curt's and my house . 7:51. P.M.

When I arrived back at the house, his car was left across the lawn, the motor still running. The front door was wide open, I stepped out of the taxi, payed for the ride and slipped into the driver's seat of his car.

I pulled the keys out, resting both hands on the steering wheel as I stared aimlessly up at the house, trying to mentally prepare myself for the worst upon entering. It took a couple of minutes for me to find the courage to get out of the car and walk up the porch steps. I weakly peak in the door, stepping in I hugged my bare arms, the house was freezing cold and dark.

A trail of destroyed furniture lead through the space. I looked like a hurricane had completely ripped through the house. Books, pillows, stationary, the television, kettle and anything else loose had been thrown at the walls. I kneel down in the hallway, picking up his gold wedding band from the hardwood floor.