Time To Move On

Sky had crammed the last of her clothes into her suitcase, zipping it up with a snap that echoed around the empty room. She couldn’t stand to be here another minute, not after what she’d seen. 

Every glance at the couch clawed at her heart, a taunting reminder of her boyfriend, Andrew, entangled with her own sister on that very cushion. 

The image haunted her like a relentless ghost, replaying itself every time she blinked. This wasn’t a home anymore—it was a trap. The only way to free herself was to leave, to let the walls that bore witness hold the memories she refused to carry.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, vibrating with Andrew’s apologies. Each text dripped with regret and excuses: "It was a mistake, Sky. 

“It wasn’t me. It was...it was the devil’s work." She rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, “Blame it on the devil, huh? Typical. Take some responsibility, you son of a...” Her lips twisted into a bitter smile as she wished him the worst—a one-way ticket to misery.

With a sigh, she scooped up her little fluff ball, Fluffy, who had been circling her feet, sensing the tension in the air. She cradled him against her chest, burying her face in his soft fur, drawing a strange comfort from his small warmth. 

“It’s just you and me now, buddy. We’re all we have.” Her words wavered, her grip tightening until Fluffy whimpered softly, jolting her back to reality. Sky took a deep breath, forcing herself to hold back tears as she looked around the house one last time.

She had arranged everything—sold the house, packed her savings, booked a ticket to anywhere but here. Her flight left tomorrow morning, and she couldn’t wait. Without another glance, she locked up the house, hailed a taxi, and headed to a hotel.

By 5 a.m., she found herself sprawled on the hotel bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, with Fluffy curled up beside her. Sleep had been elusive, replaced by a gnawing ache that seemed to burrow deeper with every passing hour. 

Her phone had been blowing up with calls from her boss, reminders of her missed shifts. She ignored them all. Her life here was over, job and all. Screw the job. Screw everyone.

A sudden thought flickered in her mind, igniting a spark of rebellion. Sky sat up, a sly smirk playing on her lips. “What am I doing here, wallowing like a ghost?” she whispered to herself.

 “I need a drink...and maybe something a little wilder.” Her heart beat faster at the thought, a pulse of defiance drowning out the pain. “Screw you, Andrew. Screw you, Brittany. You think you’ve broken me? Guess again.”

She leapt from the bed, flipping open her suitcase in search of something bold, something unforgettable. After a moment, she found it—a short, slinky dress that practically shimmered under the hotel lights.

 She slipped into it, feeling her confidence creep back with each tug and adjustment. She finished the look with a swipe of red lipstick, taking one last look in the mirror.

Tonight, she was leaving all her baggage behind, one drink and one reckless decision at a time.

    ****

Sky ordered four shots of Sex on the Beach, topped off with a daring splash of vodka. Tonight, she wasn’t just drinking; she was drowning her pain in whatever concoction would hit her the hardest. 

She leaned against the bar, eyes scanning the dim room, the low buzz of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter feeling like salt on an open wound. 

Just a few feet away, a couple was tucked close together in the corner booth, sharing a moment that was painfully familiar. They whispered and laughed softly, hands entwined, oblivious to the world around them.

The sight sent a vicious twist through her chest. Without thinking, Sky picked up her drink, downed it, and slid off her barstool, heading straight toward them, her heels clicking against the worn wooden floor. 

She stopped just inches from the couple’s table, planting her hand firmly on the surface and leaning down, a bitter smile curving on her lips.

“Y’all know what?” she started, her voice low and dripping with venom. “Enjoy it while you can

“Hold onto it tight. Because guess what? One day, he’s gonna leave you. Yeah, you, miss doe-eyes over there. And you,” she pointed at the boyfriend, her stare hard, “you’ll probably end up screwing her sister on the same couch you promised her forever on. Because that’s what men do, isn’t it?” Her voice rose with every word, slicing through the air like a knife, her words laced with raw, burning pain.

The girl’s eyes widened in horror, clutching her boyfriend’s arm. He blinked, caught somewhere between anger and embarrassment, looking like he’d rather vanish than sit under Sky’s fiery gaze.

“Don’t believe him,” Sky spat. “Men are scum. They’re liars, manipulators—betrayers. He’s got you fooled, but give it time. He’ll tear your heart out, and you’ll be the one left picking up the pieces.”

The couple sat frozen, their faces pale under the dim bar lights, and before either could muster a reply, Sky turned on her heel, leaving them staring after her as she made her way back to her seat. She could almost feel their eyes on her, but she didn’t care. Let them think she was crazy. Let them think whatever they want.

Back at the bar, the bartender had set her shots in a neat line. She gave him a brief nod of thanks, gripping the first glass tightly before tilting her head back, feeling the burn sear down her throat. One. Two. Three. Four. She barely tasted them, drinking to numb the ache that clawed at her chest. As she reached for the last glass, she noticed someone slumping onto the stool beside her.

A stale, sour smell hit her, and she winced before he even spoke. His clothes looked wrinkled and damp, as if he’d been pulled out of a dirty laundry pile and left to dry on a rainy day. And then he opened his mouth.

“Hey there, pretty lady.” His voice was thick, each word slurred, carrying a waft of breath that was so foul, she recoiled instantly. Her hand shot up to cover her nose, her eyes narrowing as she took in the man beside her.

“Jesus,” she muttered, taking a small step back. “Did something crawl in your mouth and die? Seriously, it’s like a dumpster decided to call your breath home.”

The man blinked, taken aback, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion. “Just wanted to say hi,” he slurred, oblivious to the way she recoiled.

She rolled her eyes, leaning back with a disgusted laugh. “Buddy, ‘hi’ doesn’t even cover it. If your breath could talk, it’d be begging for a toothbrush, mouthwash, maybe even an exorcist.” She looked him up and down, her face twisted in a grimace. 

“You smell like you wrestled a wet dog and lost. Honestly, I’d rather get hit by a bus than sit here and pretend I can’t smell you.”

The man’s face flushed red, his drunken confidence visibly cracking as he stumbled off the stool, muttering something under his breath before lurching toward the exit. Sky smirked, shaking her head, satisfaction flooding her chest. Maybe she couldn’t take back what happened, but she sure as hell could take control of tonight.

Turning back to the bar, she lifted her final shot, giving the bartender a raised brow as she drained the glass in one smooth gulp. “Another round,” she ordered, her voice steady, though a slight slur crept into her words. Her eyes held a gleam of defiance as she gave him a crooked grin.

***

Sky tipped back another glass, savoring the burn as the music pulsed around her, drowning out the weight in her chest. She swayed in time with the beat, her head bobbing, letting the rhythm carry her away. For once, she didn’t want to think. She just wanted to be here, in this hazy, reckless moment.

But the spell shattered when her phone buzzed, shrill and insistent, on the counter. 

She ignored it, glancing at the glowing screen just long enough to see his name. Andrew. She snorted, rolling her eyes, and slid the phone face-down on the bar.

 But the buzzing continued, persistent, grating, like he was reaching through the phone and tugging her back to him. She clenched her jaw, trying to drown it out, but it wouldn’t stop.

Finally, in one sharp, annoyed motion, she grabbed the phone and held it up, practically yelling to be heard over the music. “What, Andrew? What the fuck do you want?”

On the other end, his voice came through, harsh and angry. “What the fuck, Sky? Why did you sell the house? Who the hell do you think you are?”

Sky felt a dark, bitter laugh bubble up as she shook her head, her voice dripping with disdain. 

“Me? Who do I think I am? I’m the girl who had to watch her boyfriend screw her own sister on the couch where we used to sit and make plans for our future.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she pushed on, her words sharp as glass. 

“You don’t get to ask me anything, Andrew. Go back to Brittany, or better yet, go back to whatever hole you crawled out of, and leave me the hell alone.”

“Sky, where are you?” he demanded, his tone filled with false authority. “Where are you? I’m coming to meet you right now.”

The audacity of his words made her laugh—a low, humorless sound that was more pain than anything else. “Oh, you’re coming to find me? Do you think I care?” 

She felt tears prickling at the edges of her eyes, and her grip tightened around the phone, her fingers trembling. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a human being, Andrew. A liar, a coward, a goddamn parasite. I don’t need you. I don’t need anything from you.”

Without waiting for his response, she ended the call with one final, furious swipe. The bar felt smaller, hotter, like the walls were closing in on her. She didn’t want to hear his voice again, didn’t want to give him any more of her time, her thoughts, her pain. She’d given him enough.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she looked at the phone, her fingers shaking as she stared at his name still lingering on the screen. With a surge of anger, she raised her hand and hurled the phone out the nearest window, hearing the satisfying crack of glass and plastic against the pavement below.

She turned back to her drink, lifting it with a shaky hand. “To freedom,” she whispered to herself, swallowing the words along with the burning liquor, letting the warmth spread through her chest and drown out everything else, if only for a moment.

She stumbled off her stool, her legs wobbly from the drinks, and made her way toward the bathroom. The dim hallway was narrow, filled with the faint stench of spilled beer and disinfectant. 

She pushed open the grimy bathroom door and instantly recoiled. The bathroom was a disaster—a single fluorescent light flickered overhead, casting shadows on walls smeared with god-knows-what. Brown stains streaked across the cracked tiles, and the floor was wet, with suspicious smears near the stall doors.

“Ugh, hell no,” she muttered, wrinkling her nose and pressing her hand over her mouth to block out the stench. 

But there was no other option; she was here now, and she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Just in and out,” she whispered to herself, forcing her feet forward, her heels clicking against the sticky floor.

But just as she reached for the stall door, she felt a sharp yank from behind, her scalp screaming in pain as someone grabbed a fistful of her hair. 

The force sent her stumbling backward, her head hitting the filthy bathroom floor with a sickening thud. Stars exploded behind her eyes, and the world spun as she tried to gather her senses, panic rising like bile in her throat.