Chapter 8

Clara's POV

Derek placed the bucket on the ground next to him and gave me a furious look.

He was still shirtless in his chest and wearing sweatpants.

The first thing that struck me was that, thankfully, he was still alive. When it eventually dawned on me that I was half nude in his bed, I realized that I was not going to go to prison for helping to commit a murder.

I could only imagine the multitude of ideas buzzing through his head. This time, I was screwed; there was no turning back. This is probably the point at which my life ends. I’m quite convinced we were going to wind up in prison after everything Waylen tried to keep 'us' out of there. Everything was going to come to light.

His demeanor abruptly improved as he moved in closer and perched on the edge of the bed, appearing a little more composed.

"Are you going to explain everything that happened last night?" questioned the man.

His gaze lingered on mine, waiting for a response.

My heart felt like it was about to burst from my chest and my head went blank.

How could I ever convey all that had transpired? Of how, out of jealousy, my ex-boyfriend attacked him when he arrived here. This was not going to end well, in either case.

"I..." I began.

Derek cried out. He put in, "My head hurts," placing his palm at his temple. He attempted to hold back the anguish by keeping his head down. If not the blow, then this must be the result of the booze.

"Why don't I remember anything from last night?" His voice was irritated.

Confused, I turned to face him.

Is it true that he has no memory of last night? There had to be good news here, surely? Was he only trying to trick me, or did he truly forget?

He appeared to have recovered from the agony in a matter of seconds.

"What happened to my face?" Pointing to the spot where Waylen had punched him, he demanded.

I hadn't even noticed the red mark surrounding his eye since I was so preoccupied with making it out of this position alive.

"Are you going to say anything?" He insisted.

With a panicked "You fell and hit your head on the table, sir," I said.

My falsehood stunned me. Was this something I truly was going to lie about and get out of?

He appeared a little lightheaded when he got off the bed. I want to assist him.

He steadied himself immediately, leaning his hand on the wall for support.

"I'm certain we've had enough of one another. You must get out of my bed. He said. He pivoted, making his way to the lavatory. "One last thing, you are fired." He said.

"What?" I was able to mumble.

He was firing me, but why? Why not, if not for what occurred last night? Perhaps it was because I was lying on his bed, partly nude.

"What did you think would happen, that you could seduce me and get a promotion?" He said.

His eyes glowed with rage as he cast a chilly gaze on me.

Confused, I turned to face him. What had he truly believed had happened?

"Is it possible that he believes we shared a bed?" My sluggish intellect caught up.

Examining myself, I looked down and saw that the towel I had used to wrap myself was now resting on the bed's edge. All that was visible to the public was my bra and underpants.

I snatched the bed sheet swiftly and gave it a tight grip.

Given that I would also think that he woke up wearing nothing but a towel and that I was in my current state, I could see why he felt that way. In any case, I had to clarify things.

"Tell me, how many of the other guests do you offer your extra services?" He enquired.

"I can assure you that...."

"That this will never happen again?" He interrupted. "I will ensure that. You entered my bed and used my inebriation as an excuse to whore your way in." He said.

I firmly shook my head.

Neither the shower nor the bucket of water he'd dumped over my head felt as icy as his words.

"You have to leave my hotel immediately. Women such as yourselves degrade other women." He went on.

"Please sir, you can't fire me?" I pleaded.

"No, sweetheart I'm not firing you." He said. "I just want you to take some time off and never return." He said it in a caustic way.

I thought I was out of the picture minutes ago, so this couldn't be happening. I now learn that I was losing my job in the worst way imaginable.

My beseeching gaze on him simply made him more irate.

"I don't own a brothel. Please gather your belongings and leave the area. He went on.

"Please," I was able to mumble.

"Do you want to be dragged out of here by the security guards? Perhaps in that manner, the other universities you attend will witness your depravity." His voice was icy.

Tears were flowing down my cheeks, and I couldn't decide which hurt more—that I had lost my job or that this was how he perceived me.

Perhaps it was time for me to accept that I was lost and that there was nothing left for me here. I could try to talk him out of it, but he would never listen.

Examining myself, I glanced down to assess the issue. How was I meant to go without a shirt on?

Tristin folded his hands and glanced at me. I think he realized how uneasy I was feeling at the time.

"What, you weren't shy last night now were you?" He laughed.

His phone rang at that very moment and vibrated on the counter.

He took up his phone.

"Maybe if you were any good, I'd actually remember." He laughed.

One more blow to the face.

"I want you out of here before I come back, or else I will have the security drag you out of here." He said.

Before leaving the room to take his call, he shot me one more glance.

My eyes were welling up with tears. Never have I felt so denigrated.

I collected myself and utilized every ounce of strength I had left. I pulled the bed sheet about myself and headed to the washing room. I picked up my now-dry outfit.

With little more than my damaged phone and what little dignity I still had, I exited the washroom wearing my uniform.

Now Derek was done with his call.

Regretfully, he recognized that I was staring at him for the last time.

"Are you going to continue begging for your job?" He enquired.

I wiped my cheek from the tears.

"There are painkillers in the top drawer in the kitchen," I said.

I turned around and left his apartment behind.

I hurriedly left the building since I didn't want to show my tears to other staff members or anybody else.

I simply strolled till I reached my limit. I found myself in a park with several children playing.

I finally released all the tears I had been keeping in while I sat on the swing.

Perhaps by now Derek had made up his mind to 'out' me and let the world know what had transpired. The rumors of my shameful firing would undoubtedly get on like wildfire. Marcus would most likely take a lesson from the story.

I had no idea how or why I had been dismissed, much less how I was going to inform Mom.

As I tried to dry my tears, a small child raced towards me and peered at me.

"Would you like my ice cream?" With a chocolate ice cream cone in her hand, she made an offer.

"Ellie!" Somebody shouted in the background.

"Thank you, I'm okay," I said to the young child. I did my best to pretend to be happy.

"Coming Mom!" The female shot back a shout.

She smiled slightly at me and hurried back to her mother.

I pushed myself even more in my swing and fixed my eyes on the kids having fun in the sand pit.

****

Even though I wasn't keeping track of time, I must have spent hours in the park because most of the children had left. I had invested several hours, but I was still not prepared to confront my issues.

I seemed to be a dead corp as I made my way to the closest bus station. It took me only a few minutes to find a bus.

All of my tears had dried up by the time I got home.

Our front entrance and our little gate were both open.

When I first entered the house, everything was in disarray: documents were scattered across the floor, the table was turned upside down, and the couch had been pushed to one side.

"Mom," I exclaimed.

I went where the noises in the kitchen led.

With a panicked voice, Mom said, "Clara, step back."

Katy was standing behind her, tears welling up in her eyes.

I spotted Dad at that point, looking around the kitchen wildly. His entire body shook, and he exuded restlessness and agitation. I saw the beads of sweat on his brow.

This was terrible; he was going through withdrawals once more. This indicated that he was in a desperate situation and would stop at nothing to obtain money so that he could purchase booze.

The drawers of every cupboard were ajar.

"Dad, what is going on here?" I said something.

He halted his movement to look at me.

"Don't try to father me; I'm not your dad. Your mother is a whore who has no idea who your biological father is." He yelled.

His statement caught me off guard since it was the real deal.

My mom never revealed to me who my biological father was; all she ever said was that she avoided the subject every time I tried to talk to her. She met him while she was expecting me.

It aches even though I've grown accustomed to not knowing who he is.

"I should have Katherine move in with me. In this manner, you avoid becoming a whore like your sister and mother." He cried out.

Katy took a step forward to Mom and gave her a firm hug.

"Kevin, I'm warning you to stay away from my children," Mom said.

"What steps will you take? Arrest me as you did the previous time, please." He said.

Katy was crying uncontrollably now and clinging to Mom. She has been alive for fifteen years, and she has never once seen him sober.

The painful thing is that he wasn't always like this—his mother chose to stay with him for a long time before deciding to part ways with him since he wasn't always this horrible.

The few bucks inside the little treasure box tumbled out as he struck it with the back of his palm on the counter. In case the bread or anything else in the house ran out, Mom stored some cash in there.

When he saw the money, a smile spread across his face, and he hurriedly put it in his pocket.

"You are useless, you better have more money when I come back." He said.

He yanked the coffee table, shattering the vase on top of it and sending it flying to the ground.

With his body still trembling, he rushed out of the home.

I let every tear that I had been keeping in. My life was nothing but a nightmare, and I couldn't handle it.

Mom gave me a close hug and stroked my hair.

I wept and pulled away from her, asking, "Why won't you tell me who my father is."

Why couldn't Mom simply be honest with me? Maybe then I wouldn't have to always feel like I had a huge hole in my heart every time someone pointed out that I didn't know my father. It was her fault for this.

With a dejected expression on her face, Mom gave me the same look she had given me every time I tried to question her about my father throughout the previous 26 years.

She was not going to tell me anything, as I already knew.

I hurried upstairs to my room and laid my back against the door as I tried to take in what had just transpired. There had to be a law in the cosmos governing the quantity of terrible news one could get in a given day. I just couldn't handle this.

I sobbed as I sat on my bed.

A few minutes thereafter, I heard a gentle tap on the door. My sister entered.

"I don't want to talk to anyone right now," I said.

She responded, "Someone is on the phone for you."

She reached out and gave the phone to me.

"Hello," I said as I choked back tears to answer the phone.

"Where the heck were you the whole day, why didn't you show up for work!" Marcus cried out.