MADISON

Everything was difficult to absorb at this moment; I recoiled as though struck by a truck.

As the bitch grinned at me, Caleb feigned a guilty expression.

No! No!

My disdain for men intensifies. I don't know for others but for me, I've realized these creatures have brought me nothing but pain.

My father came first, followed by Caden, and now it's Caleb.
I wonder how broken I would've been if I were a more romantically open person.

I liked Caleb, perhaps even felt something deeper for him.

With him, I thought I had found happiness. He made me feel alive and happy after years of solitude in high school. With Caleb, I dared to hope for change. A chance.

Just hours ago, I believed whatever Caden had implanted in my mind had been shattered by this handsome man with red hair.

But I was wrong. The man I thought was my savior, the superhero who might rescue me, turned out to be just another bully. In an instant, Caleb extinguished all the light I had found, leaving me in absolute darkness.

I've reached a point where I've encountered significant challenges. I find myself experiencing a strong negative reaction towards men due to the difficult situations I've faced. The pain I've endured from these experiences is beyond words, leaving me feeling isolated and longing for understanding. These encounters have led me to envision a world without their presence, almost like an ideal paradise.

It's important to recognize that we all have our limits, and constantly being available for others doesn't make us invincible. Even things that bounce back occasionally lose their resilience over time.
I've always aimed to communicate openly and clearly, seeking genuine understanding. Unfortunately, my efforts as a woman are often met with unjustified accusations and criticism. They label me as someone who talks excessively, seeks attention, lacks self-respect, and harbors bitterness.

It's a sad irony that extending kindness to those who have been there for them is so challenging for some individuals.

It's disheartening to see that my vulnerability is always exploited when I open up and share my true self, for the reassurance for both of us. They're always eagerly waiting for me to be at my most comfortable before ruthlessly striking at my exposed vulnerabilities that I shared with them, effectively making a mockery of my sincerity.

My voice seems overshadowed by theirs, and while my emotions are exposed and vulnerable, they manage to protect their own feelings with strong barriers, just so not to feel any less of themselves. How is that even fair?

How can I love someone who doesn't love me? Someone who doesn't let me love them? How can I pursue something intangible when I'm struggling to even reach it? I've always known love doesn't last. I just didn't know it felt like chasing after a cloud.

With the men in my life, I'm simply sinking deeper into agony with each step and hell, the future has no road map to guide me for what to dodge or where to go. Despite my eyes being open, I'm still blinded by the complexity of it all.

"Maddie?" I heard him call cautiously. Through my blurry eyes, I saw him push Avery off his lap. "I can explain," he stammered.

He straightened up, his eyes wide, though not as impossibly as mine.

That's the line they always use. They believe they can explain away their unbelievable mistakes, expecting forgiveness even when they know it's impossible and unforgettable.

How cruel can they be?

Seeing my so-called boyfriend with Avery, the girl who constantly flirts with my stepbrother, solidified the mind-boggling reality. I shook my head in disbelief, finding his words unconvincing and far-fetched.

My feet slowly retreated from this surreal event.

It can't be! It just can't be.

"Please, just listen to me," he kept saying. Why is he making a fool out of me?

The agony intensified with every passing second. All I could see was Caleb and the girl with an impish smile on her face.

"I was just borrowing, sis-in-law. Didn't you learn how to share in kindergarten?" She sneered.

That statement was enough to confirm the harsh reality. Caleb had cheated on me with Avery, of all people.

The weight of her words hit me, bringing me back to who I truly am.

The small girl from New York who struggled to make friends. The girl who wasn't brave enough to fight for what was hers because she felt invisible all those years.

I turned away from the two people trampling on my shattered heart.

Elbowing my way through the crowd, I sought fresh air to fill my lungs. Every step felt like I was being pulled back, suffocating like a strangled prisoner.

What would happen if I screamed in the middle of the dance floor? Would these oblivious people notice the girl in pain, struggling for escape?

"Hey, the line doesn't seem bad," someone said. "Madison, are you okay?"

It sounded like Kayla, but all I needed was air.

I rushed out of the entrance and into the first cab I saw. With tear-stained cheeks, I arrived at Oxford Avenue. Luckily, Mitch was stepping out of his car just as I stumbled out of the cab, penniless.

"Are you alright?" The man who would undoubtedly inform my parents about my disheveled state asked.

"Could you spare five bucks? I'll pay you back when I get upstairs," I rasped.

His brow furrowed, but he nodded. "Just go upstairs. I'll cover it," he assured me.

Weak, exhausted, and unstable, I made my way into the building, leaving everything behind. I must have left my phone at the party and my clothes in Caleb's truck.

In the elevator, I stared at the third button before pressing the fourth, swallowing the ache of heartbreak as I ascended.

Exiting the elevator on my floor, I pushed forward through the hallway to my apartment door.

The pain in my chest was searing. I dreaded opening the door, knowing that Caden would see how right he was, that I would be alone forever.

I've become skilled at pretending, it became hard for Caden to tell when I'm defeated and down. How I wish he isn't home to witness this torn side of me. As facing him now felt like the hardest choice I've had to make since I arrived here.

Summoning all my strength, I turned the doorknob. I yearned for my bed and pillow to cry into, rather than dealing with my stepbrother's reaction to my appearance.

However, as soon as the door swung open, I was met with the unexpected.

A drunk Caden.

CADEN

My bleary eyes followed the creak of the door, and they settled on the most unusual sight.

Even in my drunken state, I could sense that this version of Madison was unfamiliar. Her eyes were swollen and pale, her cheeks flushed, evidence that she'd been crying.

And then it hit me, the reason for today's significance before I learned about my twin's murderer having a daughter.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice shaky but concerned.

It wasn't like her to encounter me in such a state. I'd never been one to drown myself in alcohol, to lose count of tequila shots. But here I was, barefoot and drunk, sitting despondently on my apartment floor, wishing I'd never been born.

"Where have you been?" I tried to muster my usual spirit, which was sorely lacking right now.

Her footsteps drew closer, and then I noticed something strange. She wasn't wearing the same outfit she had left in.

Wait?

The first thought that crossed my mind was the dreadful feeling that pushed aside all my own pain and took precedence.

Did he hurt her? Is that why she's been crying?

"What the fuck did he do?" Panic surged through me, a strong urge to strangle that bastard. I gathered my energy and rose to my feet, gripping Madison's shoulders, hoping to extract the truth from her quivering lips.

With her tear-stained eyes, hoarse voice, and disheveled appearance, Madison looked chaotic and broken.

What have I done?

A fear I hadn't experienced since Cara took hold of me, pounding in my chest and robbing me of breath.

Fucking Converse didn't hurt her, did he?

She shrugged off my hands.
"Congratulations, we're done," she smiled, tears escaping her glossy eyes, each one emphasizing the pain behind her words.

"He hasn't touched you, has he?" I asked, desperation in my voice.

Trying to smile, she failed miserably as she began, "No one would, I'm like a shadow, Im unseen and undesired. I'm far from any girl that's ever existed. No one wants me; I'm completely unnoticed. They wouldn't even consider touching me." A sob caught in her throat, and she used the back of her hand to wipe away the relentless tears streaming down her face.

Her pain, disappointment, and a myriad of emotions cracked open, spilling out from behind the rebellious facade she usually presents.

But what baffles me is how breaking up with some random guy could lead her to this state. It's not like the Madison I know. Could that guy really mean so much to her?

I found myself challenging her words, whether it was the alcohol or not: "That's not true."

She scoffed, redirecting her teary gaze over my shoulder, a sad smile playing on her lips. "You can mock me now. Your point is proven."

I gazed at the vulnerable girl before me, her complexity something I struggled to grasp, her tough exterior hiding her true self, stubbornly closed off.

What she didn't realize was that I had always been wrong about her, and I knew it. Her beauty was a weakness for any man, so I intentionally made her self-conscious about her captivating allure to exert control over her. Mainly, it was to shield her from unworthy boys who only wanted to take advantage of her and get in her pants.

"Do you remember what you wrote for your senior year literature project?" I inquired, closing the distance between us.

Her pained eyes met mine, her lush lashes brushing against her flushed skin. "It was a long piece," she admitted.

"In the eighth paragraph, you used ordinary words to describe how uniquely special you are. You wrote, 'the best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched.' Mad, you're too good for them. They don't deserve you. Isn't that obvious?"

"It was Helen Keller's words. I borrowed them for the project." she pouted, pointing out quietly.

"Fuck it, what matters is that you believed it. You are the most captivating luxury in this life. What does it matter if you're not perceptible to the eyes of the undeserving? Luxury isn't meager, so it's not meant for the inferior. God, no hand is qualifiedly noble—hell, honorable enough—to touch you."

"I don't believe you," she murmured, her voice embarrassed. She released a shaky breath, and I fought the urge to pull her into a hug, shoving my hands into my pockets.

"You don't have to believe it. Your beauty is extraordinary, and the fact that you don't recognize it makes you even more exceptional."

I didn't know why I was revealing the toughest truth, but it was exactly what Mad needed at that moment. It might not be Cara, but comforting my stepsister brought me a sense of fulfillment.

Yet, it didn't last long before a surge of different emotions overwhelmed me. Years of carefully constructed defenses crumbled when the same girl I'd been pushing away suddenly pressed her lips against mine.

And fuck, if I didn't seize the opportunity and kiss back, savoring the rarest taste of all.

Mad was truly unique; I was certain of that. Having been with various girls throughout my life, none had a fraction of the incredible flavor she possessed.