"It was just a funny thing to do. I was drunk so what? Who cares what I wore?"
"I believe you had something planned out in your mind already. In this one drink that you served Ethan and Lance, what are the chances that you probably drugged them both, only that Ethan's drink maybe contained whatever it had? And Lance's was spared?"
"What the fuck are you saying?" Shallon hissed, getting up from her seat. "Are you even hearing what you're saying? Me drug Ethan? Why?"
"You said it yourself." Layla shrugged, still seated in a calm manner on her seat. "Ethan had denied dating you, and this one moment you found your opportunity to have your revenge on him."
"Bullshit. That's pure bullshit, Mrs. Layla." Shallon's voice rose as she started pacing up and down opposite the woman on the other side of the table. "Why would I do that? To Ethan? To anyone?"
"Because you felt unloved, tell me I'm lying Shallon!"
"Lies, all fucking lies." Her voice was heavy as her eyes beholden tears. "I never did such a thing to Ethan. Or Lance. I was jealous, yes but I'm the preacher's daughter. My parents raised me well even though I ended up being not what they intended- I know that. I'm not the holies of holies but things like that... I can't. How can I? How can I even start to think of doing something so evil? So what? I drugged Ethan and he ended up raping Elena? Is that what you mean?"
A slowly rose eyebrow was what Layla gave in response.
"No, no, no... you're getting this wrong, I swear. By the bible, by God's word, I swear! I did not do anything to hurt Ethan. I swear." Tears stroked the sides of her face, marking territory as they slid down her cheeks.
"You wore the waiter's uniform, that was black and white, in all its glory so that they wouldn't notice you when you pulled up your scheme, messed up with a drink, or two. Or maybe even more. Who knows how many you might have thrown at him? And then he drank it and paid the ultimate price."
Shallon felt her knees weaken as the seconds passed, Layla's words getting to the best of her to her core. She dropped to the floor beneath her and cried her heart out. Tears, whimpers, and multiple snuffs followed thereafter. Her bust rose up and down, as she heaved in heavy breaths in and out one after another. She shook her head in disbelief, slamming the carpet with her palm several times. It must have been painful by the way her hands turned red shortly afterward.
"Mrs. Layla on my life, I swear. I don't know what happened. Someone's trying to fr..." Words disappeared from her mouth like a sudden power shortage. Her watery soaked eyes danced around as she looked at the floor, whimpering and shaking. Pieces of information connected themselves piece by piece in her mind as the seconds passed. She snuffed the last she was going to and got on her feet. Wiping her tears away, she settled her eyes on Layla who was still seated on the couch.
"Get out of my house." She told her, as her red sore eyes locked onto Layla's green ones. "Get out! Now!" She repeated once again, her face turning to a cold scowl.
"I'm leaving," Layla said as she stood up. She took her handbag and hoisted it on her shoulder. "Goodbye, for now, Shallon. I know you know what happened that night. When you feel you're ready enough to talk to me, I will be waiting for you. You know my home, you know my workplace."
"Just go, leave." She however responded. Layla walked to the door, a small smile on her face. Shallon closed the door when she had made sure that Layla had entered her car and had driven away. She leaned on the door for support, her feet losing the energy to hold her straight up. She wept on it, her cries as loud as the waling of a birthing mother. She slammed her hand on the door several times, weeping and snuffing and shaking.
"Babe..." She heard his voice calling from the corridor to the living room. She whipped around tears in her eyes, trails of some on her cheeks. Her chest heaved up and down, while her heartbeat rhythmically inside. He was in green jungle shorts and a white shirt.
"Mike," she began in a long and heavy voice that made the words drag as she spoke, "tell me the truth. And don't dare... don't dare lie to me." She snuffed, wiping away her tears. "What she said... was it the truth?" He closed his eyes, the obvious too much to face. "Mike what did you guys do to Ethan? Don't lie, just tell me the truth." She was shaking terribly, as tears welled up again in her eyes.
"Shallon I," Mike began as he closed the gap between them.
"DON'T DARE COME NEAR ME! DON'T YOU DARE!" She took a few steps back. Her eyes were red, and tears were raining down yet again. "Is it true? The drink that Lance told me to bring to them. Was it laced?"
One moment she saw his lips parting up to speak. Another moment she saw him looking away, gritting his teeth, scratching his head ferociously. "Yes." He finally answered.
"Oh my god!" Shallon gasped, a squinting voice coming out in the end. She covered her mouth with her palm, as her eyebrows arched straight up. It started like small pauses in her cries, before she finally broke down in tears again, shaking and whimpering concurrently. "What did you guys do to him, huh? Oh my god, and you had me involved in it."
"What did he do to deserve this?" She rose her hands in the air, eyes as wide. "What did he do?" She walked towards him, taking time in her calculated steps. When she was an arm's reach away from him, she stopped. "So he never raped her, not on purpose? Did he?"
"No." He answered. "Not at all."
"Why Mike? Why did it have to be him? Why Ethan?"
"He wanted Elena. Lance, I uh, we had to."
"So you chose to help him? Do that to Ethan? Huh? Those two, Ethan and Elena were in love and you guys just went ahead and ruined their lives completely."
"Babe I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize to me. We both know who needs to hear that apology."
"I cannot do that, you know that. If I open my mouth to speak I... I might go... to prison."
"Get out," Shallon muttered.
"Babe please, let's just talk about this..."
"Get out Mike."
"Shallon, please. If you would just listen..."
"GET THE FUCK OUT!!!!!"
His eyes were glistening, tears forming in them as fast as his heart throbbed inside. His skin was hot and a stray tear escaped from his eyes when she pointed at the door. Slowly, not looking at her, he walked out of the house in his attire, staggering like a drunkard. When he was finally out, she closed the door and locked it. She leaned her back on it as her eyes stared at the ceiling above her. Her knees were weak, her legs even weaker. The truth they say sure does hurt. Like quicksand, she found herself slouching onto the floor below. Gravity must have had its quick victory when she was finally lying on it, rooted onto it with invincible stems, too exhausted to even open her eyes. But in their shut doors, tears squeezed out to the floor below, as she whimpered and shook yet again. 'Dear winter,' she thought, 'get rid of me too...'