the Officer and his Beauty

Chapter 23

Madison’s pov

I sat in the laundry room for over two hours. I stared at the machines getting done and cried all the time. My tears couldn’t stop until I couldn’t take it anymore and pulled and folded Nate’s clothes.

This was the last thing I would do in this house; nobody would call me ungrateful or lazy. I did everything the old hag told me to do when I finally walked up slowly, completely draining the stairs. My lips were still burning from Nate when I looked up, and my heart stopped.

There he was, the coward traitor! He was sitting next to a girl who was my opposite like the witch had done everything she could to ensure he was not getting someone like me. I was the devil, and she hated me, and I didn’t even know why?

I stood there frozen and watched them having dinner on the patio. The witch and the girl were laughing and having fun. Nate stared at his plate like he was afraid to eat whatever I had cooked, making me snort. I wasn’t that petty. I preferred my revenge straight from me; I wasn’t Mrs. Jameson!

I started to move away from the window when Nate looked up and went into his room. I put the clothes neatly and in order in his wardrobe; he was a bastard, and I hated him, but he had some style.

I made a sniffle, picking up a shirt that he had been running in this morning, and held it to my face, just like I had done all week when nobody saw me and cried more; I was officially the most pathetic girl in the world, crying over some guy that used me and just dropped me as soon as his Nana snapped her fingers.

I put the shirt in the laundry basket I had carried up again and just stared at it; I needed to leave.

No matter what happened, I couldn’t stay here, and it wasn’t because of Mrs. Jameson; I hated her for being a b***h, but most of all, I hated Nate for making me fall for him and just acting like he was just as into me like me and then just push me away, like I was trash that he couldn’t wait to get rid of, a dirty secret in the laundry room.

I only took my phone and left; there was nothing else for me here when I closed the door behind me and walked out the driveway, ignoring the stare of one of the neighbors. She looked like she wanted to say something or help me, but she didn’t.

None of them did.

I didn’t even know how far I had been walking by now—miles—when I looked at my home in the distance. The mansion was still under lockdown, but nobody was there; the biggest news had died out.

I ducked the tape, telling me not to cross it like I would listen when I walked up the extensive driveway. The fountain in the middle that still was on made this so much worse when I was holding my arms around me like nothing had happened this month, that I wasn’t a squatter in my own home.

My phone was going off several times. In fact, it didn’t stop when I crawled inside my old bedroom, put it on mute, and looked around.

It was a mess in here, but it was mine. All of it was when I took my clothes off and walked into the bathroom; if the fountain was on, there was still water and electricity there. Maybe the bastard who had taken everything from me was here and living their dream life while I was a maid to an old witch and her i***t grandson.

I just wanted to forget it happened when I stepped into the shower and made it rain over me, enjoying all the pain and hurt to leave my body.

I did my face and left it in my hair. God, it looked so awful these days. Maybe it was just time to take it out. What did it matter anyway? Long hair wasn’t good in the world I had been shoved into. There was no time or money to keep it pretty.

I usually changed this every third month, maybe the fourth, when I did a quick search and just went and got coconut oil, nothing like you could get in the supermarket; no, this was the real deal, and I just started to pour it over my head and putting my hair up and taking off the rows of tape that were on my scalp, thank god Maisie had told me not to do a sewn in this time, that would have cost me money I didn’t have when I stared back at myself in the mirror and just hated what I saw.

I looked poor. Even naked when my eyes were tired, and I had lines on my face, I had never looked unhappy, like someone who hated their life. I dragged my finger over the shorter hair. My real hair only made it as far as my shoulders. I had started to get a hard line on my scalp, showing off my brown that I hadn’t seen since I was thirteen. Well, I guess this was it then.

I was officially not Madison Scott; that was the center of attention. I was alone and scared, abandoned by everyone who ever loved me. Mom, Dad, Maisie…. Nate…. My chest hurt again... did he even do that? Like me, I mean, or was that just some stupid fantasy I had made up not to feel so bad about wanting him to have s*x with me? I sat on the bed, dressed in a soft lounge outfit, and pulled the cover over my head, too tired to start crying again.

I was alone.