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Phoenix From The Ashes He Created
img img Phoenix From The Ashes He Created img Chapter 6
6 Chapters
Chapter 11 img
Chapter 12 img
Chapter 13 img
Chapter 14 img
Chapter 15 img
Chapter 16 img
Chapter 17 img
Chapter 18 img
Chapter 19 img
Chapter 20 img
Chapter 21 img
Chapter 22 img
Chapter 23 img
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Chapter 6

Kylie Baxter POV:

The old oak tree stood sentinel on the edge of the school grounds, its ancient branches gnarled and wise. It was our spot, Jax' s and mine. Our names, carved clumsily into its bark years ago, were still visible, softened by time but undeniably there. I had come back one last time, needing to sever this final, tangible link to a past that no longer belonged to me.

I watched, hidden by the bushes, as Jax and Cinda posed for photos by the main gate. She was wearing his letter jacket, even though she hadn't earned a single merit. He had a proud, almost possessive look on his face. They were living the life we had planned, echoing the dreams we had whispered to each other in these very halls.

I remembered us, standing here after graduation, hand-in-hand, talking about our dreams of moving to San Francisco, starting our careers, building our empire. "Forever, Kylie," he'd said, squeezing my hand, "you and me against the world." The words tasted like bitter ashes in my mouth. Forever had lasted barely a few months beyond high school, before Cinda's arrival had set everything ablaze.

Our dream wasn' t just shattered; it had been stolen, repackaged, and presented as Cinda' s. The feeling was not of loss, but of profound, bone-deep disgust. The dream was never the problem. He was.

I walked towards the old oak, my steps heavy, each crunch of gravel beneath my feet a punctuation mark on the end of an era. My finger traced our carved initials. K+J. A relic. A lie.

I pulled my car keys from my pocket, the sharp edge of the house key glinting in the afternoon sun. With a deep breath, I began to scratch. The wood splintered, the old carving resisting at first, then giving way. I scraped away the "K," then the plus sign, then the "J." I didn't want any trace of us left. I didn't want his name, or mine, intertwined in a symbol of something so profoundly false.

A sudden burst of laughter startled me. Jax and Cinda were approaching the tree, their voices carrying clearly on the breeze. I froze, my heart pounding.

"Oh, look, Jax!" Cinda exclaimed, pointing at the tree. "Isn't this where you and... her... carved your names?" She sounded intrigued, almost amused.

Jax shrugged. "Something like that. Kids do stupid things." He dismissed years of our shared history as "stupid things."

"Well, let's carve our names here!" Cinda declared, her voice bright, her eyes sparkling with malicious glee. "Jax and Cinda, forever! It'll be so romantic!"

My blood ran cold. They were going to carve their names over the ghost of ours. I watched, horrified, as Jax pulled out a small pocketknife. The scraping sound, harsh and grating, echoed in my ears. He was carving their names, right where ours had been. A fresh wound on an old scar.

I had to leave. Now. I couldn't bear to witness this final desecration. I started to back away, slowly, carefully, hoping to be unseen.

"Kylie?"

Cinda's voice, sharp and triumphant, cut through the air. I stopped, my shoulders tensing. She had seen me. Of course, she had. She always did.

"Looking for something?" she asked, a cruel smile spreading across her face. She held up my car keys, jingling them tauntingly. "You dropped these, dear. I guess you're just so clumsy, aren't you?" Her eyes flicked to the raw, scraped bark where I had removed our names. She knew exactly what I had been doing. Her smile widened. "Trying to erase the past, are we? Too bad some things are just... unforgettable. Like how Jax is with me now. And how you'll always be alone."

Her words, delivered with such venom, struck a nerve. My hands clenched into fists. "You don't know anything about me," I seethed, my voice low and tight.

"Oh, but I do!" Cinda laughed, a shrill, unpleasant sound. "I know you're pathetic. Always chasing after Jax, always trying to be something you're not. You're just a sad little chef who lost her restaurant and her man. You're nothing without him."

The last insult was a spark that ignited the tinderbox of my control. My restaurant. My dream. My dignity. They were sacred. No one, especially not her, was going to diminish them. A wave of uncontrollable fury washed over me.

"You manipulative bitch!" I screamed, my voice raw, broken. I lunged at her, a desperate, uncontrolled surge of anger.

Cinda shrieked as I pushed her. She stumbled back, losing her footing on the uneven ground. Her eyes, wide with fear, locked onto mine. She grabbed my arm in a desperate attempt to steady herself, pulling me with her.

My head swam. The old concussion, still tender, flared with a searing pain. I felt a dizzying lurch as we both fell, splashing into the murky waters of the old lily pond, right next to the oak tree. The shock of the cold water, combined with the pain in my head, sent me spiraling. I gasped, struggling to catch my breath, the water filling my mouth. I thrashed wildly, disoriented, my vision blurring.

Jax was there in an instant, his face a mask of primal concern. But his eyes weren't on me. They were on Cinda. He plunged into the pond, his strong arms reaching for her. "Cinda! Are you okay? My God!" He pulled her out, cradling her close, checking her for injuries.

I was still in the water, coughing, choking, my head throbbing, the edges of my vision darkening. I reached out, a desperate, silent plea for help.

Jax looked at me, his gaze cold, disgusted. Cinda, clinging to him, whimpered dramatically. "She pushed me, Jax! She tried to drown me!" she cried, her voice trembling with feigned terror.

"Kylie, for the last time," Jax snarled, his voice a low growl, "stop your pathetic drama! I'm so sick of you and your games! Just leave Cinda alone!"

"Jax... I... I'm really hurt," I choked out, my voice weak, a desperate whisper. My head pounded, and I felt lightheaded. I was so disoriented, I couldn't tell up from down.

He simply stared at me, his eyes devoid of any pity, any concern. "You' re always hurt, aren't you, Kylie?" he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Always the victim. Always playing for sympathy. Well, it's not working anymore. Now, get out of this pond, and get out of our lives. I don't want to see your face ever again."

He turned his back on me, pulling Cinda further away, whispering soothing words to her, completely ignoring my struggles. He left me there, in the cold, murky water, his words a final, crushing blow.

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