Sunrise was in progress and it was burning Kevin’s face. A friendly reminder that once again, his actions aren’t going to get Chanel back. He rubbed the crust out of his eyes and looked behind him. She had her back to him. It wasn’t Chanel. He didn’t know her name…or what she looked like. This was a new low for him.

I can’t keep doing this shit.

Slowly, he got out of bed, making sure not to disrupt his bedmate. She didn’t move. He winces as his feet touch a condom wrapper. Scooping up his clothes, he walks into the living room, wishing he could rewind the past few months. Chanel’s gonna leave you, they said. That didn’t stop him from drinking.

As he put on his shoes, he heard footsteps. 

“Leaving already? No coffee?”

His body froze. I know that voice. He turned around and his worst nightmare was answered. In front of him was Bree Elle, the ex-girlfriend of Chanel’s brother Omar.

You really stepped in it Kevin. 

“Bree Elle…I…I…didn’t…”

“Lemme help you out. I was in a disguise so you wouldn’t recognize me. If you weren’t blackout drunk, you would’ve recognized my voice.”

Kevin desperately wanted to respond, but the words wouldn’t come out. She continued.

“Chanel loves you but she knows you won’t change. Once I tell her about this, she’s gone for good.”


“You…planned this?”

She laughs.

“Yep. And I recorded it,” she said.

His head was hurting.

“For Christ’s sake why?!”

“She needs first-hand proof of how awful you are.”

The pain worsens. The room starts to spin. He lunges at her. She jumps out the way, tripping over a coffee table leg. Struggling to find her balance, she falls back, hitting her head on the table.

He leans forward to pick up her up, but her body is limp. Panic rushes over him. He checks for a pulse. There isn’t one. Sirens are blaring outside. He runs back into the bedroom and grabs her phone before leaving the apartment.

Walking briskly down the street, he tries not to draw attention to himself. The police are at the front of Bree Elle’s building. He searches his phone to find the location of his car and calls a cab to take him to it.

Climbing into the back seat of the cab, he takes Bree Elle’s phone from his pocket. She didn’t lock it. Sure enough, she recorded them. He deletes that video plus all the videos and photos she took last night.

The driver dropped him off at his car. He paid him and exited the vehicle. Taking his keys out of his jacket, he unlocked the doors and got in. As he replayed what just happened, he got a text message. It was from Chanel.

Oh shit!

His stomach dropped. He read the notification.

OMG!! Bree Elle is hurt!! Meet me at the hospital!