Olivia Sparks

[Violence, which could trigger emotional distress, is found in this chapter. Certain scenes are graphic and could be upsetting to some. Proceed with caution. Discretion is advised.]

"Why did you shoot my left hand?" His saliva dripped from his mouth as he cried.

"Because you looked on your left when you said it was your right." Olivia deadpanned.

Bang!

"Now it's even," Olivia commented, shooting his right hand.

"You bitch! You were flirting with me! You were always smiling at me! You even sat on my l.a.p when I asked you to!"

"Oh, no. You just didn't say that." Olivia laughed, her head thrown back. One more word out of this man's mouth would seal his fate. But that's not what she wanted to happen. She was no god. Death was something only the heavens could decide on.

Aiming the gun to Imman, Maxen kissed the shell of Olivia's ear. "Is that where you want to shoot?"

"Yes. Four times." Her lips quivered. 

Pain. Revenge. Liberty. 

Whatever she felt at that moment, it didn't matter. She was forever broken, and no amount of retribution would bring back her innocence.

Her only consolation was seeing herself inflict the same pain on the monster that haunted her for years.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Imman Han's eyes bulged out from its socket, his mouth formed into a big 'O'. When the shock wore off from him, his eyes landed down between his legs where his manhood once was.

Four bullets in, he doubted if it was still attached to him as it dripped blood like a faucet.

"Let's go," Olivia huffed, pivoting on her heel and heading out of the warehouse. Maxen trailed behind her.

"Send him back in the penitentiary," Maxen c.o.c.ked his head to Imman's direction who passed out from shock.

"Sure thing. I made dinner reservations for us. I sent it to your phone," Wyatt informed him, cupping Maxen's shoulders before heading towards the line of military men who were waiting for further orders.

Maxen scratched the skin above his eyebrows, wondering how on Earth was Wyatt able to pull a dinner reservation in the middle of the ruckus.

Soon, Maxen and Olivia found themselves huddled inside Olivia's car with Uncle Jin driving them back to Notios Estate to change. They were sweaty and sticky, badly needing a shower and change of clothes.

"Will the monster still visit me at night?" she asked, stroking Maxen's forearm. Hearing Imman's cries, a louder version of hers in the dreams that haunted her for years gave her an odd satisfaction, a promise of a new beginning.

"There will be nights that he will, and I might not be there physically to slay the monsters that haunt you in your dreams, but know that I am always here." He planted his palm on her c.h.e.s.t where her heart should be. "And I will be there beside you to wake you up."

"Pffft. That's comforting. Thank you very much." She cupped his face rubbing their noses together. She then snuggled with him, laying her head on his c.h.e.s.t, finding solace in the steady rhythm of his beating heart.

[ Written while listening to JP Saxe - If the World Was Ending. Song was added to my playlist found in my discord channel. Thank you very much.]

Her car was snaking up on the parking garage when it dawned on her that Wyatt would be in attendance too. Sniffing her eucalyptus oil, Emily offered a little prayer for her sanity and her traitorous heart to be intact the whole night. 

She told herself that the path to healing was to face reality, and this was exactly what she would be doing: facing the reality that she and Wyatt were over and done. 

Arriving at the seventh-floor parking, which was the only access in the restaurant, Emily sent a message to Olivia, informing her that she would be waiting for them in the bar. 

Earlier, Wyatt made a dinner reservation for them in the Four Clovers' go-to restaurant. It was a membership-only restaurant, camouflaging against the floors of offices in the capital's business district, providing private rooms for all the guests.

"Isn't it too early to be drinking?" Wyatt's voice echoed behind Emily who was sitting by the bar with a wine in hand. Goosebumps painted her skin. This was the first time she heard his voice after they broke up.

Swiveling her seat, she faced Wyatt, a bitter smile curved her lips. "Haven't drunk a single drop for months because of my medication. This is me catching up with my missed time." She swirled the wine glass, making circles on the table. 

Wyatt didn't miss the double meaning behind her statement. He sat beside her, tapping his knees. He does that every time he's nervous and Emily knew it. She knew everything about him not to miss his nuance.

Silence ensued as the two sat by the bar, drinking their own choice of poison. Knowing his private time with Emily was running out and that was his only chance to speak with her, Wyatt glanced to her way, his hands subconsciously touching her t.h.i.g.h.

Emily grasped the familiar hand that held her for years. She didn't push him away. She just let him touch her, hold her, even for a brief moment. 

Seeing that Emily was calm and collected, Wyatt trailed off, "I'm sorry."

She huffed. "What do you reply to those words? It's okay? I am fine? Because I am not. But I'm glad you said sorry, at least you admit that you made a mistake."

"I know." Wyatt gulped. He craned his neck to relieve it from the tension that was crippling him on his seat, immobilizing him.

Noticing him stiffen in his seat, Emily had a hunch that Wyatt would try and convince her to give it another try. To give 'them' another chance.

But she's done. And once a woman was done, there was no going back—only going forward.

Emily got off the barstool. She faced Wyatt who swiveled his seat to face her too. She wrapped her arms around Wyatt's neck and buried her face on the crook of his neck.

She breathed in the familiar smell she called home for more than half of her life; the life she dedicated to him. The life he threw away in exchange for momentary happiness in the arms of another lady.

Her eyes pooled tears that she refused to shed for months. She promised herself she would never cry for him again, but who was she kidding? She's Emily. And Wyatt was her kryptonite.

Hot, salty tears spill out of Emily's eyes, and she knew Wyatt was crying too, her back drenching with his tears of regret over the beautiful memories they shared together.

"Just one more chance, honey," Wyatt pleaded through muffled grief.

"I wish you happiness, Wyatt. Please wish the same thing for me too."

She patted Wyatt's back twice, prying herself off from his tight grip. If it was the old Emily, she would listen to his demands, but she's no longer the Emily he was used to.

She's the Emily who learned to love herself and value herself more. Gone was the Emily who ran after the love of a man who never really cared but just loved her company.

With her hands balled into a fist, Emily rushed to the bathroom to keep her tears from overflowing, bumping into a lanky figure.

TICK!