by S. M. Soto
I bark out a sharp, humorless laugh. “You never meant to hurt me? You’re the reason my entire life fell apart! You’re the reason for all of this. Hell, I thought I hated you before, but now…you watched me suffer. And you expect me to believe you didn’t know who I was? I smell bullshit.” I shake my head, pushing out of the chair. “And to think I felt sorry for you! I felt sorry for lying, when this whole time, you had to know it was me. In the back of your mind, some part of you had to know the truth.”
“I didn’t know it was you. I didn’t put any of it together until you gave me that piece to read. How could I? You made damn sure nothing was left of the old you.”
“I hate you,” I croak, a sob ripping through the still air. “You’re a sick, lying bastard.”
“Mackenzie—”
“Stay the fuck away from me,” I hiss, shooting away from his desk and storming away. He’s there before I can get far. His hand grips my wrist, and he whirls me around, trying to get me to hear him out, but I can’t hear his words. All I feel is a pain in my chest. It’s all-consuming. I keep picturing that night and how messed up all this is. How messed up he is. I’m so hurt, so filled with rage that my hand sails across his cheek, and we both go still. I let out a shaky breath and take a wary step back. His cheek is red from the contact.
“Fuck you.”
I dislodge his hold on me and leave. I don’t look back. Because I know if I do, I’ll fall apart, and because it’s Baz, I’ll let him put me back together, despite all the pain he’s caused.
My hands shake as I run from the condo, my vision is blurry, and I can’t see anything, but I keep running. I run until my lungs are hurting, until I’m wheezing in pain, and my calves are burning with lactic acid from the strain. I collapse down the street, leaning against a brick building. My vision swims as I dial Kat’s number. She answers immediately.
“I need you,” I sob. And before too long, she’s there, pulling me into her arms in the back seat of her driver’s car.
Once my sobs and the tears dry, I stare out the window, watching the lights of the city fly by. When we roll to a stop at her building, I pull out from her hold, and she smiles at me sadly, wiping my face free of any remnants of tears.
“I didn’t want to do this, but my father called this morning with some bad news.”
My eyes slam shut, and once again, I feel my world crumble around me.
Trauma Victim or Scorned Lover?
That’s the only question that comes to mind while we read over the piece that has rocked the social media world. My first initial thoughts while reading were as follows:
I smell bullshit.
Who let this lady write this shit?
Is this some cruel joke?
I’m all for the Me Too movement and believing women, but believing this trash that this woman is spewing? She wrote a “journalistic piece” on herself, about her life, and why it was so hard. (Boo-fucking-hoo). She blamed men for her own family issues. How can she really expect us to believe she’s innocent when she dated one of her sister’s supposed murderers? (Pictured below.)
This, folks, is what happens when a scorned woman wants revenge. It’s no secret the infamous playboy Baz King has been seen with plenty of women, and I’m sure she wants to get back at him for breaking her heart.
Anyone who believes this crock of shit that’s defined as poignant and groundbreaking is an absolute joke. Please, Ms. Mackenzie Wright, if you’re reading this, get a life and move on to a different career, because this is not how you go about handling a breakup.
Thank you, NEXT.
Comments:
@TanaCamillla90: This is disgusting. I can’t believe anyone would go this far after a breakup.
@YoboiErenn__: Not surprised someone would do this. This woman needs help. Serious help.
@Nofacediva12: I’d be mad too if I got dumped by the hottest man on the planet. Smh. What a weak bitch.
@QueenVeelo_: She’s not even pretty!
@Icon6Kathianaa6: Homegirl needs to do everyone a favor and choke and die cuz this ain’t it sis.
Five days.
One hundred twenty hours.
Seven thousand two hundred minutes.
That’s how long it’s been since it feels like my world has shattered. I keep wondering how many times my world can fall apart for good, but obviously, life is funny like that. It enjoys pushing you until you feel like you’re on the verge of hysteria.
I haven’t heard from Baz, and for that, I’m all too thankful. I don’t know if I can handle dealing with him. Especially now. The lawyers told me this would happen, and now, more than anything, I regret not listening. I wish I would’ve embellished the story like they suggested. Maybe then it would’ve had a greater impact. Maybe then it might’ve worked.
I read through the posts, the handful of articles that are ripping me to pieces. The comments aren’t nice. The hashtags on Twitter are even worse. #MackenzieWrightIsOverParty. I never thought I’d be associated with any kind of hashtag, and definitely not one like this. People have been creating “stan” accounts on behalf of the Savages, and each of their posts is a thorough bashing of me and why I’m the problem in society.
This world can be so evil. Though, losing my sister already showed me that, I guess I didn’t realize just how horrible humans can be on the internet. I’m being dragged through the mud because suddenly I’m the liar. I’m the harlot who’s lying. I’m crazy. I’m grieving. I’m everything in between while all of them are innocent.
It was easy for the vultures to find my pictures with Baz from the gala we attended and other candid shots of us in San Francisco and leaving the Kings. I have no clue if it was his doing, but Page Six posted a piece about me and how much of a liar I was, using those photographs as evidence against me.
Everyone thinks I am a scorned lover or a woman looking for a payout, wanting the clout this would bring.
That isn’t what I want. I want justice.
I want Madison to be free.
Law enforcement isn’t interested in reopening the case. And why would they? I’m a fucking joke. If it’s even possible, the guys are more popular now than they were before, and what’s worse, everything that Baz told me about what really happened that night? I can’t do a thing about it because I already look like a liar. These so-called theorists have debunked everything, and if I so much as try again, I’ll be a laughingstock. No one will hire me again. I’ll be homeless and living under a rock soon.
I know my friends would never let that happen, but what am I supposed to do? Let them take care of me forever? I refuse to leach off them, and I refuse to go crawling back home to my parents. My name is tainted. And once again, it’s at the hands of the Savages.
My phone vibrates on the bed beside me, and when I glance down at the brightly lit up screen, my stomach hollows out. A golf ball-sized lump lodges in my throat as I lift the phone to my ear with a trembling hand.
The last time I spoke with my parents was the night I woke up in the hospital and had to give my statement to the police. They never visited while I was in that hellhole, and they sure as hell never called after to check on me, so I don’t know what the hell they want from me now.
“Hello?”
“Mackenzie.” My mother sighs down the line. Her voice sounds tired and frail. Just like her. “What are you doing? I thought you were getting better. Why are you trying to drag our family’s name through the mud?”
Months later, and this is what they’re calling for? Not to check on me or my well-being, but to focus on themselves and what’s left of their reputation? My blood starts to boil, and I press my lips together in disdain.
“I’m trying to do right by my sister. I can’t say the same for you guys.”
“That’s not fair. We’ve done what we can. Sometimes, you need to let things go for your own sanity. I thought…I thought you were better. That’s the whole reason he had your father sign the conservatorship papers over to him. He swore you were doin
g better.”
My stomach twists violently, and my breath catches. “Who are you talking about?”
“Benedict’s boy. The one who’s been in all those pictures with you on the news. He came by here not that long ago and forced your father to sign papers, giving our rights up.”
My chest is heaving wildly as it works to accommodate my heavy breathing. My grip tightens around the phone, and I work a swallow. My stomach cramps with fear. “What are you saying?”
“He’s in charge of your health. He’s the reason you were let out.”
My brows dip, and my face splits into a frown. No. That can’t be possible. Why would he do that? How would that benefit him in any way, having me out of there?
That’s when it really hits me.
Baz owns me.
There’s no gentler way to put it. He’s in charge of everything that pertains to me. The second I get out of line for him, I can find myself back inside that nuthouse just as quickly as I landed there before. The thought alone sends a violent chill down my spine.
Frustration brings tears to my eyes because this is the one time, no matter what, that I won’t be able to fight him. The last time I went to visit him in his office, he made it seem like we weren’t done, like we’d never be done. And now I understand why. He holds the keys to the kingdom. My entire life is laid out in the palm of his hand.
“Thanks for nothing,” I grit out, before I hang up and toss my phone far away from me. All that device has done lately is bring me bad news anyway. Panic and melancholy ebb and flow through my chest. I drop my head into my hands, trying to breathe through the sharp pang of betrayal that’s shooting down the center of my chest, filling the cavity with ice.
“So, what are you going to do about it?”
My breath catches, and I freeze at the sound of the voice. Slamming my eyes shut, I count to five in my head, telling myself I’m imagining it. There’s no way. Not after all this time.
“Are you really going to sit there and pretend I’m not here?”
I choke on a sob when I hear it again. This time, I force my eyes open and spot Madison leaning against the wall, watching me. I rub vigorously at my temples, trying to make it go away because this can’t be. I have to be dreaming or imagining this. As if mirroring me, her hair is blond now, just like it always has been. I’m not sure what’s real and what isn’t anymore.
My chest expands with emotion, and my body is trembling.
“You’re not real.”
“I am. And I told you to move on. So yeah, guess not much has changed. You still don’t listen well.”
“Mads?” I choke out.
She pushes off the wall and crosses the room, stopping at my side. I swear, when she lowers herself onto the mattress, I feel the bed dip beneath her. When her eyes meet mine, I feel the first tear slip free. My chin wobbles as I take her in, my gaze eating up every piece of her. There’s a moment when we stare at one another, eye to eye, and it’s like staring back into a time warp of our childhood. Her face looks just like mine, but like with every set of twins, there are minor differences.
“Shh. No more crying,” she breathes out, pulling me into her embrace. Surprise flits through my body, and I fall into her arms, holding onto her as if she’s going to disappear without a moment’s notice. I don’t want her to leave again. I wouldn’t be able to handle it a second time around.
“Tell me what to do,” I whisper into her hair that’s soft as silk.
“You either keep fighting or finally let this go.”
“I can’t let this go.”
“Then you know what you have to do.”
We fall back onto the bed, and I spend the rest of the night allowing my dead sister to run her fingers through my hair until I fall asleep.
I jolt awake at the sensation of someone shaking my shoulder. Shifting on the bed, I turn around, coming face to face with Vera. She’s staring down at me, a concerned look on her face. “Hey, babe. You must’ve conked out. Kat wanted me to stay with you today. She has a shoot.”
I push up in bed, resting my back against the headboard, and glance around the entirety of the room, checking to see if Madison is still here. She’s obviously not.
“Want to get some breakfast and talk?”
I grimace at the idea. I know I need to eat, but the idea of heading out into the public eye, with people who are currently out to get me with pitchforks—yeah, that doesn’t seem like the best idea.
“I don’t want to deal with anyone today, Vera. I’ll pass.”
“You’re probably right.” She sighs, sitting next to me. “Why don’t I call the driver and have him bring us something? Eggs benedict with mimosas?”
I almost roll my eyes at how rich and snobby that whole sentence sounded, but instead, a dry laugh escapes. “Oh, how I’ve missed you, Vera.”
Now she’s the one who rolls her eyes. “Shut it and take a shower, Kenz. You stink.”
I don’t even take offense to her comment. I’m sure she’s probably right.
After a much-needed warm shower, I get a whiff of the delicious smell of breakfast and head into Kat’s kitchen. Vera has everything laid out on the counter, and she’s already plating the food for us. Even though everything looks so good and smells so good, I’m in such a perpetual funk that when I sit down to dig in, I can’t enjoy it. I push around the food on my plate, my mind thinking about all the things I wish I could forget.
“I hate seeing you like this. I can’t tell if it’s because of him, the assholes online, or the fact they’re walking away without so much as a slap on the wrist for what they’ve done to you.”
“It’s everything.” But it’s mostly Baz. I don’t say that, though. Admitting it out loud is admitting defeat.
I’ve had five days to come to terms with his truth, and I can’t seem to. He lied to me. If he lied about this, he could be lying about everything else. I don’t actually believe he could’ve killed Madison. There’s nothing in our past that would suggest it. But what if Vincent did? Or Trent? Maybe even Zach? I’m not sure about Marcus anymore, either. His timeline seems to steer clear and coincide with Baz’s.
The big question I now have is: What really happened that night? So, what if Baz and Marcus were gone? That left three of them there around the night of her death. They could’ve easily come up with a lie to help cover for each other.
Part of me wants to keep digging, while the other part of me wants to give up and find that life and that happiness I’ve been so desperately seeking. I’m tired of learning the truth of things, only to have it break my heart even further.
“Do you believe him? That he didn’t do it?”
I shrug. “Part of me does. But I still don’t trust him. What if he’s lying for them to protect them?”
“What if he isn’t lying? What if all of this is the truth?”
I shoot her a dry look, and she laughs, pointing at me with her fork. “Okay. Dumb thing to say. I know. But I guess what I’m getting at is, how would you know if he’s lying or not? I’m not condoning any more lying, but maybe, keeping your enemies close and all that jazz right now isn’t the dumbest thing you could do.”
My brows jump into my hairline. This is exactly what I was thinking earlier, but it felt wrong to deceive him like that again. Though he’s been doing the same to me, hasn’t he? Why is this any different? Kat would hate this idea. Hell, that’s why I’m so surprised Vera mentioned it at all. She’s like the devil on my shoulder, appealing to the thoughts that have already been swirling there, begging to be noticed.
“He’s too smart to fall for that again. He’d never believe I’d go crawling back, not after everything that has happened.”
She shrugs, popping a piece of chopped up watermelon into her mouth. “Make him believe it. Don’t go crawling back. What do you want to do, deep down inside, when you think of Baz?”
“I want to…” I pause, unsure if I should speak my mind.
She rolls her eyes. “Just say it.”
“I want to hurt him. So bad. But I also want what we had before. I want him. I want him to be mine. I miss his touch. I miss…God, sometimes it feels like I miss everything about him.”
She grins. “I’m sure you miss a lot more than just his touch, but this is perfect. Use that. Because it’s really how you feel. He’s not going to think it’s a lie or a scheme. And this time? You can hit him where it really hurts. You get what you need. You keep the enemy close, and you get to dig the more he opens up to you.”
I sit quietly, contemplating this plan. It could backfire. Horribly. But the more I think about it, the more I realize how well this could work. But there’s only one thing that’s stopping me.
“The question is, can you handle it? Can you go another round of pretending with him? Without falling in love with him?”
I don’t have an answer to that question. Mainly because I am already in love with Baz Kingston.
The only thing I fear now is falling for him so deeply that there is no coming up for air.
I stand outside of the condo that I came running out of just days before the entire world decided they hated me. I swore to myself that night that I’d never see him again. That I’d never trust him again, but look at what I am doing anyway.
Running back to him.
The only difference is, this time, I am leaving trust out of things. Though I will have to actively try to tamp down my feelings for him. I still am not one hundred percent sure what my plan of action is going to be. I just hope that when I see him again, everything that I’m trying to tamp down doesn’t come bubbling back up to the surface.
One thing is for certain. Whatever happens in there today, I am not leaving until he agrees to sign my conservatorship back over to one of my friends or me. I still can’t believe my parents would sign me away like that. Who could do such a thing? Do I really mean so little to them? Am I such a nuisance in their precious lives that they had to pass off the burden to someone else? Are they really okay with that person being Baz? They don’t even know him!
