The Kingdom of Light

The music rumbled through the speakers, not loud, not deafening, but still crisp and clear. The different voices around me made it hard to hear exactly what song it was, and even more importantly, who sang it. As usual, I was behind the bar, and as usual, it was packed. It was a Saturday, and people had just gotten paid, so the bar was packed with happy patrons who weren't afraid of leaving a good tip behind.

"Luna!" Brian yelled from the other side of the bar, waving bills above his head-he might as well have been flashing a neon sign above his head, with big, bright letters screaming notice me! "IPA!"

I couldn't resist the smile on my face, because just as short-tempered Brian could be, just as deep and considerate he could be as well. I grabbed the beer from underneath the counter, popped the lid easily and quickly-the beer opener was always in my back pocket-and set it down in front of Brian. With a smile and a short nod, I accepted the bill from his hand, and with a keep the rest, he moved back down between the dancing bodies.

The pub was a decent place; it was cozy, not nice, and definitely not fancy. The bar was long so that it could hold a lot of people around it. The counter was in a dark, lacquered wood, so you couldn't as easily see all of the stains of beer, soda, and alcohol, and so it was somewhat easy to clean. The underside of my counter was filled with coolers, where I could keep the beers, sodas, and other odd things we sold.

My hand automatically fell back on my cigarette, which I picked up and placed between my lips, snagging another drag as I wiped down said counter. I let the smoke blow out between my lips before I pulled it from my lips, twisting it between my fingers. You should stop. But that would be boring, and it would be a pain in my ass to quit. And as many other things, I choose to just ignore the nagging voice in my head, and just kept on going, hoping for the best.

I had been bartending for a long time; it was something I was good at, something I could actually figure out to do. Even in my twenty-two years, I hadn't managed to do anything but graduate from high school. I had to spend my life doing something, but it was tough settling in somewhere. But this job, it was decent pay, great tips, and it gave me something to do. As long as I got out of bed in the morning with a hunger for completing my job, then I couldn't see a problem with it-even if my mother could find countless.

When I was at work, my thoughts could just flow-they simply floated better in noise. With my hands going on routine, and my extensive knowledge of the patrons, I didn't have to be on just as much. I could simply just be. Which made me feel, even in this environment, like I had a calm and steady job.

I took another drag of my cigarette. It was stupid to start smoking, but when I was offered one while drunk, I wasn't able to say no, and here I was, four years later, and still smoking.

The hours flew by as I stood there serving beers and low-effort drinks. I knew that before I could even think it, I would be on my way back home, to where Lucas was. My fiancé.

We met shortly after I was done with high school, and it took me all of four seconds to fall in love with him. His green eyes, his brown, ruffled hair, his muscular body, and his delicious voice. It was easy to love him. He worked a lot and was rarely at home, but when he was, we made sure to spend time together eating delicious meals, watching lame movies, and having amazing sex. Which only made the work days easier for me, it gave me freedom and not a lot of responsibilities. Even if just a few would be nice.

My mother didn't like him-obviously-not when I met him, not when we moved in together, and certainly not when he proposed to me. I told her then that I was an adult, that I could make my own decision, and that I was sure this was the right one. It also meant she never visited us when he was home, and when he was, she would ignore him. My mother was the world champion in freezing people out, pretending the problems she couldn't handle weren't there.

My gaze caught on the ring on my finger. It was a simple silver band with a nicely sized diamond in the middle of it. As I told him, it wasn't the ring that mattered to me; it was the intention behind it. The will and wishes behind it. I had known for a long while that I wanted to marry him, that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, having fun, doing whatever we wanted, and no one being able to hold us back.

"Are you dreaming about that lovely man of yours again?" Susan slurred from my right side, already sounding way more hammered than she should have been at the time. She shouldn't be given anymore, but when she was drunk, my tips skyrocketed, and I had a wedding to save for.

"Don't think I ever do anything else," I answered her, a smirk playing across my lips.

"He's just lovely," Kim gushed, butting into our conversation-always eager to see Lucas. "When are you going to bring him here again?" Ah, there it is.

Lucas hated coming here, but he did it regularly if I was playing. He knew it meant a lot to me when we could share my music. The music I had spent most of my life playing, the music I had been rehearsing and working for so long to master, wishing it could turn into more, but it never did.

"He's the one who landed an amazing woman," Peter yelled from across the bar, grinning at me as he winked at me.

Sure, I was a pretty girl to look at. Wide hips and muscular legs made sure I had to buy jeans with a stretchy fabric so that I could actually move around. I had what Peter had called an ample bosom, which made sure my back was strong and gave me a great posture. Luckily, my boss gave me oversized t-shirts that I could wear, because drunk men could be bastards. My hair was blonde and was starting to lighten even more, reasoned the impending summer. It was cut short, so it just reached my shoulders. But the best thing about me, if I had to say so myself, was my sky blue eyes, which could either shine with happiness but also strike lightning with my rage.

"Now, Peter," I grinned right back at him, shooting him a wink as well, "you know your compliments bring me to my knees."

Peter's middle-aged face lit up in a beaming smile, making something warm spread inside my chest. After many years of hard work, his body had suffered, and he looked a lot older than he truly was. But Peter was soft as butter, sweet and caring; he just needed someone to talk to. His chuckle always made me smile, and his shaking shoulders made me feel like his day had brightened just a little.

**

As the night progressed, there was a shift in patrons. The older patrons went home to grab a bite to eat, to relax with some television, and to go to bed early. Then the younger ones started to fiddle inside, and as usual, it was entertaining to watch. The young women who came through the doors-who were actually still little girls-looked like deer caught in headlights. They came in quietly and calmly, looking around all confused like frightened animals. While the men came bustling in through the doors like bulls, all loud and boisterous, the only thing that was wrong with the analogy was that they were on the hunt, like a lion searching for its next prey.

It was a dance between predator and prey, a dance of how much the prey could entice the predator. The predators swelled up, inflating their muscles, trying to show how big and strong they were, scaring the others away. A comedic dance that always started around this time of night and would carry on until I locked the doors.

I observed a young man, one I hadn't seen before. His hair was pitch black, his clothes just as dark-if not more-and his smile looked all wrong. The women who were dancing up against him were trying to gain his attention, doing whatever they had to do to get it. But something about him just seemed... off. Even if he looked at them, it didn't seem like his attention was actually on them. He didn't look like someone who was from here, not someone I could recognize. What rattled me the most was why all of those girls seemed desperate to get his attention compared to anyone else.

My head spun towards the doors where three men walked in. I couldn't see their faces as their dark hoods were drawn down, shading them from the light. They were walking straight towards me, straight towards the bar, straight towards the register.

One of them stopped right in front of me, raising his gun right at my chest. "Give me the cash!" His voice boomed across the bar, the certainty in it making a shiver run down my spine.

I hurriedly directed my eyes towards the floor, slowly raising my hands above the bar, so that they could see them. I remembered my training on how to act if something like this ever happened to you. Don't look at them! For everything holy in this world, they couldn't think that I would be able to pick them out of a lineup. They needed to see my hands, so they knew I wasn't contacting the police.

"Give me the goddamn money!" he yelled once again, making sure everyone noticed.

"Okay," I answered, nodding my head slightly, keeping my eyes downcast, my hands high. "I need to grab a plastic bag for the money." So goddamn slowly, I reached down towards the trash bags.

"Hurry up!"

I ripped off a bag, turning around to walk towards the register. My entire body locked down. Everything hurt. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It felt like my life was flashing behind my eyes. Pull yourself together! The register dinged as I opened it, my hand immediately starting to empty it into the bag. Behind me, I could hear the three men forcing everyone outside and the door slamming behind them.

I closed the bag tightly and turned back around. The three men were still standing there, one of them still holding the gun tightly.

"Here," I answered, trying to stay as calm and direct as possible.

The guy with the gun grabbed the bag. "I'm sorry about this," he mumbled, before they turned around and hurried out of the pub. The door slammed shut behind them.

Darkness took hold of me, locking my mind down, trying to calm me. My breathing got quicker and quicker as I was starting to hyperventilate. My eyesight turned smaller and smaller as pure rage flowed through me, the darkness trying to pull me into the lull I knew it provided.

My hands turned into fists as I clenched them as hard as I could; I could feel my fingernails cutting into my palms. My mouth opened, and through it came a scream; a scream I had never heard before. A sound so full of power, so full of numbness, so full of pure pain.

What a shitty fucking life.

The blue lights were flashing all around me, shining a light on the otherwise darkened street. My boss had arrived shortly after the robbery. Luckily, some of the patrons had called the police, because after the blood-curdling scream I had let out, my body was all drained of energy.

I had been placed on some of the patio furniture we had outside, which was sitting out all year long, now groaning underneath my weight, and the fact that they had absorbed more rain and snow than they could manage. Everything in my head was spinning, everything I did right, everything that could have gone so terribly wrong.

I looked up at the sky. The starry night sky was looking right back at me. The darkness in that was completely different from the darkness I had felt earlier. That darkness was pure rage. But this? This kind of darkness was beautiful, it was peaceful, it was quiet. The stars kept taking turns, shining down on me while the moon was bright, almost like it was controlling the rest of them. The night sky was so easy, so straightforward. It had always had a calming effect on me, just like it did now.

The darkness up there contained everything the world down here didn't. There was a steadiness and an acceptance that you just didn't find on earth. Here was nothing but chaos, nothing but noise, and everything just smelled and felt like shit.

I sighed, sinking onto the bench. My elbows rested on my knees, my gaze locked on my boss, who was talking to two police officers. Of course, he was considered about getting back his money, and I could understand that, but he could have asked if I was okay, he could have just checked in.

Two more police officers came out of the pub along with a dog. It was supposed to catch the scent of the thieves, but it couldn't have been easy since there were so many different people in and out every single day. To me, it seemed so goddamn ridiculous to use resources on doing that, but what did I know?

"Are you okay?" A dark voice, covered in some sort of accent, sounded from behind me.

I turned around, but wasn't able to see much else besides the outline of his body, since the darkness seemed to surround him, shield him. I simply nodded at him, unable to make my tired and rundown body do anything else. For just a short while, it seemed like he looked at me, while I looked at his general direction, trying to figure out who the hell he was, but then he simply stepped back, disappearing into the darkness. That wasn't creepy at all.

"Are you able to make a statement?" The female officer came towards me, her pen already ready on her pad. I simply gave another nod. "Can you describe any of them?"

"No," I answered curtly. "I held my gaze down, making sure they weren't further agitated," I continued, making her nod approvingly at me-officially telling me that I did the right thing. "But they were wearing dark hoods, and the guy talking had a very dark voice."

She wrote everything I said down on her notepad, nodding while I was speaking. She looked worn, like she had already had a long night. Her hair was tight in a bun on the back of her head, which was probably a sign of her wanting to be taken seriously. She wanted to be recognized as someone who had the guts to do a man's job. It had to be difficult, of course gender equation was getting better and better, but for a female police officer, I wouldn't dare to think of how much crap she had to endure every time she clocked in for work.

When her brown eyes met mine, they shone with compassion, but also endurance and strength. "Do you have a way of getting home?"

"Yeah, my car is right back there. My fiancé is home, so I won't be alone," I explained, trying to give her a I'm okay smile, but it was forced, it was too fake, and she knew it.

"Good," she responded anyway, as she placed her hand on my knee and gave it a small squeeze. "Can I have your phone number, in case we need to speak with you again?"

After giving her my number, I said goodbye to my boss and gave him my keys. I knew I wouldn't be able to work behind the bar again, not after what happened tonight. I wouldn't be able to feel safe behind the bar anymore, I wouldn't be able to relax, and I would never be able to forget the sight of that gun pointed straight at me.

It seemed like he understood me completely, because he didn't ask any questions, and he let me go home without any fuss.

**

I turned off the car outside our apartment building. With a heavy sigh, I leaned back into the seat. That sigh contained so many emotions, feelings of powerlessness, feelings of tiredness, feelings of relief. I could feel the happiness starting to take over-my brain choosing to focus on the good things in my life, wanting to look on the bright side of life.

Lucas and I were going to Ireland in a few days, a place where I could put all of this crappiness behind me. I could use all of my energy on sucking in positivity, on drawing from the happiness of a sunny sky, of happy Irish people. We had agreed that we needed a small getaway before it got too warm, the kind of temperature where you could feel comfortable walking around, seeing all of the nature and culture Ireland had to offer. And I was especially excited to see their big Summer Fest, the one where they welcomed summer in a traditional Irish way.

The cool air started to seep into the car, but you could clearly feel the summer approaching quickly. And with the summer, my birthday also came. It was almost eerily quiet, too quiet. On payday, you could usually hear people partying, having fun, and getting rowdy, but you could hear nothing but the quietness of the night.

The slam of the cardoor was deafening.

I moved towards the door of the building, the bricks were a striking red color, and the building was three stories tall. The ones on the ground level had a bit of a garden as well, where all we had was a small balcony. I had tried to grow so many different things there, but it either got too much sun or not enough sun. I simply didn't have the green thumb.

The stairs felt unbearable as always. My legs felt like jello already, and now they had to be exposed to an absurd amount of steps. My right hand followed me on the banister, basically pulling me upwards. Sooner than I thought, I hit the third floor, and with only four attempts, my key hit the lock.

Noise came from inside the apartment, like someone was struggling or something. I opened up the door, and Lucas came tumbling out of the bedroom, only halfway dressed. "Hey, beautiful!" He seemed out of breath for some odd reason. "You're home early."

I threw my stuff on the ground right there in our hallway, before my arms lifted to envelope him in a hug. Everything I needed was his love, his kisses, his hugs, his tongue, and his...

"Hey, Luna!" My head turned to find Carol, who was sitting, barely covered by the comforter on my bed.

"Hey, Carol?" I could practically feel my head spinning, trying to keep up. Halloooo?! Wake up! "What are you guys doing?" My eyes went from Carol back to Lucas, who was also looking back and forth between us, but never meeting my eyes.

Like if lightning hit me, my body suddenly started moving. My hand hit his cheek with a humongous smack. I hurried further into the bedroom and quickly grabbed my suitcase, before I started shoving my clothes into it.

Carol shifted slightly on the bed. Carol. My best fucking friend since middle school. How long had she been fucking my fiancé? Honestly, no, I didn't want to know.

"Luna," Lucas started, as he stood in the doorway to our bedroom, still halfway naked.

As an answer to that, I simply took off my ring, throwing it at him with the single intent of hurting him. Tears started gathering in my eyes. I had to fucking hurry.

"It wasn't supposed to make you upset," he tried.

He didn't even have the decency to flinch when my gaze landed on him. I was fucking boiling with rage. "What the hell was I supposed to be then? Huh, Lucas?!" I threw my arms up, the feelings simply overflowing inside of me. "Should I be happy? Should I have asked if I could join, or if it was supposed to be just the two of you?" I pushed my shoulder into him as I walked past him to the bathroom. "You can have fucking everything, do what you want, I don't give a damn."

Inside the bathroom, I threw all of my toiletries into a bag. Basically just taking my toothbrush, my deodorant, and my other small things. I went into the bedroom again, where Carol was now dressed in a t-shirt and her minuscule thong. She was everything I wasn't. She was skinny, had long brown hair that waved down her back. She had a gigantic ass, one that all men just needed to have a piece of.

I shut my suitcase and dragged it across the floor. I turned towards Lucas. "The rest you're gonna send home to my mom," I said, while I could still keep the tears inside. "I don't wanna look at you anymore." My gaze turned to Carol once again, who looked not to even be affected by it. "And I definitely don't wanna look at you either."

The door slammed behind me again, and now I was in the hallway yet again. Where was I supposed to go? Going home to my mother would be admitting defeat; she would know she was right. But was there anywhere else to go?

What a shitty fucking life.

I looked at the house in front of me. A small rowhouse. It was whitewashed and had a red roof, and it looked like every other house here. My backpack weighed on my bag, the one I always brought with me to work, the one with all of my electronics in it, and my suitcase in hand. It felt heavier than anything I had ever carried before.

He had cheated on me with my best friend. Just the thought of it made me want to vomit all over the place. I couldn't help but wonder how long they had been doing it. Pull yourself together! No job, no roof over my head, and nowhere to go, besides my mother.

The small front yard was already in full bloom. Flowers, herbs, and vegetables. My mother had green thumbs like no one else, and it annoyed the crap out of me. I wasn't able to grow anything like her. Even here, in the darkness, her garden stood out among the others, which had the same conditions for growth as she had.

With the suitcase at my heels, I walked up the paved line towards the white front door. My head was tender, and my thoughts swam around in my head. What was my next step supposed to be? Where did I belong? Can you even trust people? Tired, I lifted my hand; the sound of the doorbell was insufferable. You could hear it ringing throughout the entire house, and immediately her voice floated through it, echoing right behind the ringing.

I turned around, deciding to yet again look up towards the stars. They were shining so brightly, like they knew exactly what they were supposed to do. Help me. A silent prayer, a small beg. Sent up to something I knew couldn't help me. Help me.

The door opened behind me. "Who's-" I turned around, looking my mother straight in the eyes. "Luna," she whispered at me, like we were in the middle of a daytime drama. "What are you doing here?" Her eyes slide from me down to my suitcase, and then it happened, the eyes I knew I would receive. I knew it.

"Can I stay here for a while?" I asked, knowing what her answer would be, which was also why I was here.

"Of course," she said, stepping aside so that I could get in. "What happened?"

I left the suitcase in the hallway and continued further into the house. I went by her bedroom, past the door into the bathroom. The living room was the last in the hallway, so I opened the door and went inside, into the room that looked so much like my childhood living room but still so different.

"I asked you something, Luna."

"Not tonight, okay, Mom?" I turned towards her, seeing her standing with her arms crossed over her chest. "You'll get all the details tomorrow," I tried, while I gave her the thinnest smile I could muster. "Do you have any alcohol?"

My mother was definitely a beautiful woman. She had the same blond hair as I, but hers was completely short and always put neatly into place-just not at crap o'clock at night. She stood in her sun colored robe and wore her flippers. Her body had an amazing pear shape with broad hips.

She sighed as a response, rolling her eyes at me. "Look in the fridge and in the corner cabinet," she answered, before she turned around and opened the door to her bedroom. "Good night," she mumbled, before she disappeared into the room, closing the door behind her.

The switch gave a click as I turned on the light in the living room. The living room I had spent so much of my childhood. The living room, which in principle looked exactly like itself, while everything was still different. The coffee table still stood in the same spot, but the TV had gone from a box to a flat screen. The couch had been humongous, taking up most of the space, a couch that didn't fit in with the screaming blue color that none of the other furniture had, had been replaced with a two-person couch in a dull gray color. The laundry rack still stood behind the couch, though, but it wasn't the same kind of clothes hanging on it as when I was a child. The dining room table had gotten smaller, and the chairs had gotten fancier and more expensive.

I moved through the room, making my way to the kitchen. In the fridge stood a bottle of rosé, unopened. I took it underneath my arm while I moved across the kitchen to get a glass. The first one I grabbed was a regular water glass. Who cares? Not me, it seemed.

I went back through the living room and opened the door to the terrace outside. I plopped down in one of the chairs, opened the bottle, and filled the glass completely. With my back against the chair, I threw my feet up on the chair in front of me. My cigarettes came out of my pocket, and I quickly placed one between my lips. When I grabbed my lighter, I could see my hand shaking, shaking more than a vibrator on full goddamn speed.

Finally, I was able to light up my cigarette, and I dropped the lighter onto the table. My shaking hand was grabbing the glass of wine, as I could feel myself starting to hyperventilate once again. I took down a gulp, and then another, and then another.

Tears started to prickle my eyes again, and this time I didn't care; this time I let them fall. I took a drag from my cigarette, which truly just made me cough. The sobs started to wreck my body. My body shivering from everything, from the drop of adrenaline, from the cold surrounding me. Why me?

I couldn't cope with this day. How can all of this happen to me?

I couldn't handle it anymore. Why did all of this happen to me?

I couldn't live like this anymore. Why can't it just all go smoothly?

I couldn't stand it anymore. Why can't I be happy?

Yet another sound left my lips, one I hadn't thought would come. Another scream left my lungs. My cheeks were completely wet, my t-shirt drenched, and the glass became slippery in my hand. Automatically, I put it down on the table. I tried standing up, but my legs wouldn't listen to my brain. I tried drying the tears from my cheeks, but my arms wouldn't listen either. My body had shut down completely.

Help me.

No matter what, it couldn't get any worse than it was.

Save me.

No matter what, I couldn't be hurt any more than I was right now.

Kill me.

**

I woke up in the lawn chair the next day. The birds were chirping. The sun was shining through a few clouds. The neighbors were talking on the other side of the hedge. Idyllic suburban coziness on a Sunday morning. But I couldn't handle it. Happy people aren't realists. At least my brain was as negative as the rest of me was.

I pulled my body from the chair with a loud groan. I hadn't been just an ounce comfortable. My back was trashed, my legs were stiff, and my shirt was moist after the dew.

Inside, my mother sat ready, coffee made, breakfast put out, and her game face on. "Good morning, did you sleep well?" Her voice was bright, but still firm. She wanted answers, and I might as well give them to her, because she wouldn't relent until she had them.

"I slept like shit," I muttered honestly, before I dumped down in front of her.

My coffee cup was filled quickly, the black liquid looking like a goddamn lifejacket. It turned into a muddy brown color as I filled it with milk as well. I took a sip immediately-the milk cooled it down for me. As if it gave me a shot of life, I instantly felt just a tiny bit better.

"It's time to talk, Missy," she said, leaning back and crossing her arms across her chest once again. Her gaze was hard and firm; there was no dodging her this time.

I sighed, feeling my entire body starting to soften up after the bad sleep position. "From the top?"

Her clear blue eyes searched my face, like she was trying to suck the information right out of me-or worse, like she could read my mind. "From the top, and all of it!" she demanded.

"We were mugged yesterday," I started, taking a small sip of coffee to let her digest the information. "I stood alone behind the bar, and suddenly, three men came in, one of them had a gun, and they wanted all of the money in the register." Her eyes got wide, her jaw falling onto her chest. "The police came, but I couldn't really help them with anything, since I didn't see much, just trying to survive." I grabbed an apple from the fruit plate. "So I handed over my keys yesterday, and now I'm without a job." I stopped talking, taking a bite out of the apple. "When I got home, I found Lucas and Carol," my eyes landed on her again, "together, naked in my bed."

"You've got to be kidding me," she almost whispered.

"So I packed my stuff, and I didn't know where else to go."

"So, Lucas and Carol are a thing now?"

Of course, that would be where her focus was. "I don't know," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "I didn't exactly ask about their plans."

She nodded thoughtfully while she grabbed her own coffee cup and took a sip. Satisfied with the information, she didn't really need to ask any more questions, which made it possible for me to eat my breakfast in peace and quiet, without having to be on guard.

"Ireland!" I nearly jumped out of my chair when she suddenly yelled. "You're still going to Ireland, right?!"

"I don't know, Mom, isn't it utterly fucking redundant right now?"

A wicked smile stretched across her lips, one I didn't like one bit. "I could go with you.

No. No, no, no, no. Fuck no.

"If I'm going," I started, "I'm definitely not bringing my mother on what would have been a romantic getaway." She had to understand that.

She leaned back, clearly disappointed. She didn't speak anymore, not until she had to go to work.

"Bye," she said, halfway into the living room. "I'll see you later."

"You sure will," I answered her, sending her a half-hearted smile and a "have a nice day."

My mother worked in a nursing home, where she helped the elderly get moving, and she made something happen in their lives. She basically always worked twelve-hour shifts on Sundays, since it paid a buttload of money. She disappeared out into the hallway, and soon the door closed behind her.

My attention snapped back to the TV, which was playing yet another episode of a horrible reality show. It was the kind of show where every single girl had big boobs and the guys looked like bodybuilders. They always fought over the smallest, most stupid things, making drama where no drama should live. But it delivered the perfect kind of numbness that I needed. It was something I could watch without having to think, just trying to follow through the conscious stream of thoughts flowing from the characters.

My phone vibrated yet again. I had stopped checking it a long time ago, because either it was Carol who was trying to apologize or trying to explain why it really was all my fault, or it was Lucas who was threatening to come and pick me up.

The only thing I had used my phone for was calling and ordering both a large pizza and some pasta for dinner. Both had to be doused in garlic, and of course, I was getting a shit ton of dressing on the pizza as well. I could be gross now. Now I didn't have to think about what I would look like naked, because no one was going to see it.

When the doorbell finally rang, I went to pick up my food, almost giddy about the fact that I was going to binge eat way too much. But it wasn't the delivery guy, it wasn't the guy I wanted to see the most.

"Luna, please listen-"

I slammed the door right in his face, and of course, I locked it immediately, effectively shutting Lucas out of the house.

"I was being stupid, okay?" He spoke loud enough for his voice to travel through the door. "I was too blind to see what I already had, please. Like, we got together really early, you know, and I thought I had to try something more, that I need to see-"

"So you decided to try out my best friend? Is that what you're trying to say?" I called back, the rage starting to bubble inside of me again.

"Luna," he sighed, almost sounding resigned, like he was already tired of this. "I wasn't trying to hurt you; that wasn't what I wanted." My eyes rolled so hard, I almost got dizzy from the movement. "Let's go to Ireland, huh? We can have a great time, we can bond, we can find each other again. We can forget all about this, please, Luna. We're getting married for Christ's sake."

I ripped the door back up, needing to see his face. "You fucking disgusting bastard scumbag cheating fucking liar!" I screamed right into his face, feeling the heat rising in my body. "You can forget everything about going to Ireland! I fucking paid for that trip, and I'm not bringing a fucking cheater!"

And only like Lucas could, he sent me a smirk, which would normally make my panties fly off. "You said fucking twice." It was meant to be funny, meant for me to chuckle, meant for me to say Yeah, you're right, throw myself on the ground, and spread my legs.

"Get out," was the only response out of me, while I pointed back at the parking lot. "Get out of my life, leave me the fuck alone. I never want to talk to you, hear from you, or see you, ever again."

It was almost like he got confused. Like he hadn't thought I would actually stay mad at him. Like he had thought, he could just show up here, say a few words, and then I would forget and take him back. That I would pull him to me, hug him, and then spread my legs for him. Not in this lifetime.

"What about our getaway?" he asked, looking like a hurt puppy who didn't get his way.

"It's my getaway," I answered through clenched teeth. "And if I see you there, I'll cut off your balls. Do you understand?" A small thought entered my mind, a worry that I might be able to crack my teeth, with how hard I was clenching them. But I was certain in my decision; he would never be able to act like this ever again.

As if someone gave him an extra shot of confidence, he suddenly lifted his shoulders and straightened his back. "I don't need you anyway," he said, and then added, "you're nothing but a moldy, shaggy, and disgusting cunt." With that, he turned around and walked away.

Moldy, shaggy, and disgusting cunt.

What a line.