"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And when you look long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you."

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𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒏 

It's after five thirty and I'm waiting for Chris to get home from work. Every minute that passes is longer than the one before, it's excruciating like watching paint dry.

I'm almost ready to give up and take Jas and Izzy up on their offer for a girl's night when a key turns in the door, making Duke and Stevie bark wildly. They run to the door to greet their father after a long day, as do I.

I have his slippers in front of the mat on the floor, and my arms wide open with a warm smile on my naked face.

"Woah— everybody's happy to see me." Chris chuckles, pleasantly surprised by the welcome committee.

I let him drop his bag onto the chair by the window and step out of his sneakers before slipping into the worn, brown house shoes.

Chris throws a toy for Duke and Stevie to run after so he can get to me without them in the way.

"Did you bump your head, or?" He makes fun, grabbing my waist.

Standing on my tiptoes, I shake my head in his face and throw my arms over his shoulders.

"No. I just don't care anymore, we don't have to fight. I love you, and I missed you today." I speak sweetly, staring at his wet lips.

"I've been thinking about you all day." Chris pauses to peck my lips just once.
He goes on to say, "You scare me when you act like that, I don't like it. Seriously, that was worse than the silent treatment, but it's my fault. I was a dick-"

"Shh, Shh, Shh," I kiss him to shut him up. "we have to get ready. Come on."

"Ready? For what?"

~

I can't believe I'm willingly doing this. Whatever I can to strengthen my relationship and support Chris, I suppose.

As uncomfortable as I am, I do look stunning in this dress that matches Chris's emerald green and black split design two piece belted blazer and seamless matching pants. With it, a black button up underneath, a black bow tie because he doesn't know any other colors, and a pair of leather contoured Alexander McQueen sneakers since I wouldn't allow him to wear Nikes or his favorite pair of Rick Owen's.
My cowl neck mermaid dress was accented with diamonds in particular areas such as the hip above the high slit and before the draping of the off-the-shoulder ruffled sleeves. It pools at the feet but I don't trip over it in my YSL heels because of the slit. I was worried Chris wouldn't like the slit for this occasion as it is Jessica-Rabbit-esque but he loves it and has complimented me all night as well as many others.

It's nearly eleven at night and it doesn't seem as if the party will be dying down any time soon. I've never been to a ball before, I've always pictured them to be extravagant and this is, just boring as hell, too.

I yawn at the table and Chris looks back at me, excusing himself from his conversation, to ask if I'm okay.

"Sorry, just— sorry." I stop myself from saying I'm tired because I don't want to spoil the big night for my boyfriend.

I excuse myself from the table with all of Chris's colleagues and their dates gathered around as Chris shares a story, and go to the buffet line for dessert. I'm thinking chocolate anything will boost my mood.

"Don't you just love Russ's balls?" A weirdly recognizable voice rings in my ears.

I sharply suck in air and rotate on my heels to find the voice.

I gasp when I see there's no one around. What the hell?

It could've just been some people in passing, I think in my head.

So I return to filling up my small plate. When I reach for the tongs, though, they're taken by someone on the opposite side of the table.

"Sorry." I glower but don't mean to come off so aggressive.

"Don't be, darling." The same voice cackles, lingering on the word darling.

I look up quickly and see the same woman from The Hamptons who claimed to be Beck's wife. She has on the same scarf covering her chin and hair and another wide pair of sunglasses. Her lips are overdrawn so I can't make out the shape of them, but they're huge - fake, I assume.

"You." I reveal, dropping my plate by my heels on the marble floor.

"No, you." She guffaws, biting into a chocolate covered strawberry. "It's nice seeing you again. Please, drink with me-"

"Who are you, really? What do you want?" I ask, eyelids flickering as I try to comprehend this encounter.

Her voice, the way she speaks, it's not real, I can tell. But why is she using a disguise and fake accent?

I step closer, hoping to see through the glasses but it's too dark in here.

My lip quivers as if I'm about to cry, but my fists are balled, so I push my confusion and emotion to the back and speak next with courage. "Sabrina, I-"

The woman scoffs. "Again, who is this Sabrina character?" She shakes her head at me and laughs small.

That's when my phone rings and I see it's the same 8561 number that I've discovered is Sabrina.

"No..." I mumble, stumbling back with this pain in my chest.

My head starts to spin.

How could this be Sabrina when I'm talking to her? I wonder.
So, this isn't Sabrina, but I was so sure? Then, why is this woman messing with me, who is she? Perhaps she really is one of Beck's mistresses, but still, weird. . .

I apologize to the woman and speed directly to the ladies room.

I throw up in the toilet and then flush it down, disgusted.

Ew.

Upon exiting the stall, the bathroom attendant asks me if I'm alright, if I need anything.

"Just some mints, please? Thank you." I splash my soapy hands under the running water and watch her go to the tray where she turns her back to me and shakes some "mints" into one hand.

She presents two white "mints" into my now dry hands and smiles wide. There's something etched onto them, like a logo or brand name. I've never seen them before. In fact, the mints looked less like Tic-tacs or Lifesavers, and more like ecstasy.

Well, I refuse to be a dummy anymore.

"Actually," I hesitate but try not to look suspicious. "do you have any gum?"

The last thing I need is to be drugged. Again.

While I have no real reason to believe this bathroom attendant would have it out for me, I'm still skeptical of this place and everyone occupying it. From Beck's mistress to Russ and his entourage, they're all shady, and I want out.

The attendant goes on to tell me that she doesn't have any chewing gum but she insists I take the mints.

"No thank you." I deny, backtracking out of the bathroom carefully.

"Oh!" A woman helps upon me running into her.

"I'm so sorry." I apologize immediately for my clumsiness and turn to face the woman.

It's her - Beck's real wife.

Her name is lost on me until she starts speaking, I only remember that it's something old.

She notices my concentrated face and reminds me of her name.

"Morgan, hi! It's me, Cordelia. Cordelia Jordan? How have you been?" She reels me in for a hug that I don't consent to and try to wiggle out of.

I shake my head, looking at her.

"Wow. That dress won't get you into Heaven but you're here for a good time, not a long time, right?" She winks at me, slapping my arm.

I swat her chubby hand away. "Don't touch me."

She looks taken aback at my sudden rage and clutches her pearl necklace.

"My word," she gasps. "Morgan, what are you on about?"

Her eyes, they're dark and soulless, I see right through them.

I stand tall over her short, pudgy body and look down at her. "Are you even Beck's wife, who the hell are you?"

She flutters her short eyelashes repeatedly and sneers at me. "Excuse your mouth. I am his wife, yes, unless you know another Cordelia Jordan."

I stare at her plainly, shaking my head in disbelief.

"I don't know what you people have going on, but leave me the fuck out of it." I make clear and try to push past her.

When she grabs my arm, I force her body into one of the stall doors and she stumbles, falling onto the toilet.

"Oh my goodness!" Some women who have just entered scream and rush to Cordelia's aid.

I exit with all of their eyes burning into me as if I'm Satan herself.

I'm in such a hurry to flee that restroom that I run smack into another body.

"Christ!" She gripes, checking her satin ivory gown for a spill but there is none.

I flail my arms and start to panic.

It's her again. This time, though, she's linked arms with Beck Jordan.

"Morgan, I was hoping to see you some time tonight." Beck speaks to me with this smirk that I want Chris to slap off of his face.

"For what?" I rush him for an answer.

Beck and his date both laugh.

She just sips her red wine as he adjusts his royal blue double breasted suit.

"To make sure you got the flowers." He says like it's nothing.

"I don't want your flowers, okay? I want nothing to do with either of you and your weird love triangle. Matter of fact, your wife— your real wife— just fell in the bathroom." I tell them, talking with my neck rolling.

They look at each other with furrowed eyebrows and long frowns and then start to laugh out loud, making me feel small.

"What's so funny?" I fold my arms over my chest and watch as Beck circles my body.

"Morgan, this is my wife. Cordelia, you met her last weekend, don't you remember?"

"No." I object.

She nods her head, smiling sinisterly. "Oh, but she had so much to drink."

"You made me drink, and you drugged me!"

"Oh, Morgan," Beck winces, standing behind my back. "those are wild accusations, let's not. Here, have some-"

I push the glass out of my face as Beck takes it from his wife and tries giving it to me.

I smack it out of his hand and it goes flying over the rail, hurling to the lobby where the guests are all waltzing.

AAGHHH!

Someone shrieks once the glass shatters around them.

"Tsk tsk tsk." Beck's mistress sounds, tapping her finger to her crooked lips.

"That's the girl from the bathroom." One bystander gossips.

I feel all eyes on me.

"Is she okay?" Another whispers.

"It's alright, folks," Beck bellows over the crowd and music from the balcony, "she's had one too many, but isn't that the goal of the night? Drink! Dance!"

"Fuck both of you." I murmur, running away from the in the corridor.

"Hey, hey, hey-" I hear Chris's voice when I crash into him by the staircase.

"You alright, slow down? I've been looking for you, what's wrong?" He lifts my chin and tries getting me to make eye contact but I can't.

My face burns as does my chest and fists. I don't want to cry, I have no reason to, I'm not sad or even angry, just confused and frankly, scared.

"I want to go home." I croak, putting my head to his chest.

"What happened?" He asks me, the concern is clear in his tone.

"Yeah, Morgan, what happened?" Russ monotones. His voice is as bored as his body language with his arms pretzeled over his chest and eyes rolling back.

I will myself to look at his face and squint my eyes on him.
He's probably just like the rest of them - some type of evil.

But Russ smiles at me, trying to make silly faces at me behind Chris's back as if to cheer me up. More like horrify me.

"N-nothing. Please, let's just go, please." I sniffle, tugging on Chris's arm.

I look over my shoulder and see Beck staring directly at Chris and I just some feet away. He raises a glass and suggests a toast to Chris who he says is the man of the hour.

"WOO!" Russ cheers to that and starts the applause but never takes his eyes off of me.

"What did you do?" Chris asks Beck, pointing at him.

Beck just keeps his imaginary glass raised and holds his smug smile.

"The fuck did you do to her?!" Chris roars at Beck, lunging towards him.

Security quickly does their jobs, making themselves a wall between the men, and I pull Chris back. Err, try to anyway.

"It's not him. It's okay. I'm okay," I assure Chris instantly.

"Come on, let's go." I plead, forcing him in the opposite direction with me.

When he hardly budges, prolonging his cold glare on Beck, I get in front of Chris and put both hands on his chest to try and push him that way.

We descend the stairs in a hurry, but Chris is stomping down them, removing his tie and belt whereas I'm just trying not to fall.

In the lobby on the main floor, I near the door and rush the valet to get Chris's Tesla.

"Don't look up there, baby. Forget them." I try to encourage Chris but his eyes are dead set on Beck who's drunkenly hanging on Russ's shoulder at the balcony. They're looking down on everyone like they're Gods and it makes my full body shudder.

"Now the real party can start!" Beck's voice thunders through the foyer, causing an eruption from the rest of the partygoers.