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    The Barter
    The Barter
    The Barter
    Ebook92 pages1 hour

    The Barter

    By Shamaria Smith

    ()

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    About this ebook

    How often have you thought that your life would be better if you could change one thing, or be someone else entirely? If offered a chance to do so, would you take it? There is more going on in the world than the natural eye can see. Misery, temptation, and vices play a major part in forming peoples' paths. This is a story of will and faith, or lack thereof. Everyone has a journey and everyone will be tested… but there is always a price to pay.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBookBaby
    Release dateSep 16, 2022
    ISBN9781667859989
    The Barter

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      Book preview

      The Barter - Shamaria Smith

      cover.jpg

      The Barter

      © 2022, Shamaria Smith.

      All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

      Print ISBN: 978-1-66785-997-2

      eBook ISBN: 978-1-66785-998-9

      Contents

      How Much is it Worth?

      The Irony of it All

      Dark Places

      In the Crux of Things

      Greed

      So Where Do Lost Souls Go?

      Sheep

      Shut up and Drink!

      The Hunter becomes the Hunted

      Last Shot

      Are you the Devil?

      How Much

      is it Worth?

      My life ended and began about four years ago. It all started when my boyfriend of five years said in no uncertain terms, maybe we should see other people. To say that I was devastated would be an understatement. I know we had some rough patches here and there, but who doesn’t. There were money issues and doubts of loyalty, and there was a point where we both became complacent in our relationship. No clear goals, just existing in the same space.

      It happens. You just got to work through it—right? I just knew in my heart this was the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with; marriage, kids, house, hell, even a dog. You can imagine how crushing the news was to receive the day before our six-year anniversary. As pained as it was, I had to keep going or at least make an attempt. To say the least, it hurt. More importantly, I was humiliated. I’ve put so much time and energy into us for him to just end it.

      What will everyone think? Everyone I know is married. In my opinion, the most unfavorable couples have settled down to live their happily ever after. Why not me? The thought of facing any of my friends when they ask me how everything is going or when the big day is and then having to tell them about my perfect little life with my perfect boyfriend of five years is over is just disastrous. On top of that, I’ve been trying to get my company off the ground for years. I’ve invested a lot of money, long nights, early mornings, and many tears into my business only to receive a lot of disappointment, but I always managed to pick myself up and continue on—I’m tired of starting over. I’m tired of all of the closed doors, missed opportunities, and flat-out rejection. I’m tired of always being on the losing side. I can’t help but seem baffled at how my best friend’s husband’s get rich scheme became so successful in a matter of months. I mean, are you serious! And the breakup was just the icing on the cake. I don’t think I’ve ever cried that hard or long before. I finally hit the lowest point of my life.

      I sat in my bathroom with only the light from the hallway to illuminate my pitiful scenario. The pill bottle was to my left, and the kitchen knife to my right. I was thinking that death wouldn’t be so bad. I could just end it right here. I have failed in my relationship and my career, and I could just be done with it all right here, right now. No more hurt, no more pain. I would be at peace with my final breath and a little satisfied at the thought of haunting my ex for the rest of his life. As I thought about this, I cried even harder—the pain I was going through, all of the failures, and the thought of ending it. I cried because I was crying in the first place. My pain turned into anger and then into jealousy. All of my friends were successful in their own right; families, careers, and happiness. Why not me? I wasn’t even afforded the luxury of feeling numb to the situation. I started thinking out loud about the hows and whys that placed me in this current position when all I wanted was just to be happy. I’d sell my soul for just an ounce of happiness.

      In the end, I didn’t use the knife or take the pills. I just stood there staring at my reflection, examining every part of the figure that stood before me—a person I no longer recognized staring back. Runny nose and eyes puffy. Eyes that used to hold so much passion and optimism were resembling two black voids—dark and desolate. Exhausted, mentally, emotionally, and physically, I dragged myself into bed.

      I usually start my day early with exercise, breakfast, emails, and phone calls, but today I just couldn’t. I slept in. Or to be exact, I hid from the world, refusing to face the reality of my situation. Wrapped in my cocoon of safety, morning turned into afternoon, and afternoon turned into evening. I stayed in my cocoon for several days, only moving to go to the bathroom maybe once or twice. I kept the lights off. I moved by memory, avoiding my boyfriend’s gym bag (that was no longer there), avoiding the pile of paperwork on the desk (full of headaches and disappointments), avoiding the image in the mirror as I walked to and from the bathroom (I couldn’t face her, me.) My reflection was a final reminder of all the hurt and disappointment, so avoiding myself, and blocking out the world was the last attempt to protect what was left of my sanity. But I knew I couldn’t go on like this forever.

      Finally, after several more days of sulking and reflection (more sulking than reflection), I shed my cocoon—not as a new woman ready to start over (once again) strong-willed and determined, but simply a woman trying—a woman desperate to succeed in just one thing. So, with that, I half-heartedly proceeded with my daily routine. I hoped that I would feel better if I tried to blend in even just a little bit amongst the rest of the heartbeats in the world. Maybe it was the halfhearted attempt that made it feel so hard. My emotions were still raw, and all I really wanted to do was stay in bed and avoid people. Every menial task felt like such a challenge. Still, nonetheless, I kept trying, and I was somewhat content with my efforts.

      To reward myself and convince myself I had conquered a major feat, I treated myself to coffee at my favorite spot. The coffee shop looks like a grungy hole-in-the-wall bar that one would only find by accident, but the coffee is great. The barista looks like he could snatch your heart out of your chest in the blink of an eye, but he’s the best conversationalist I’ve ever met, with a charming smile to match. My boyfriend, or rather, ex-boyfriend, hated this place. After only visiting once, he said it was a little too morbid for his taste, claiming that he felt a great sense of dread covering him as he entered the coffee shop, but I always felt at peace here.

      This coffee shop is where I come to think and work. Apparently, so did many other people. The coffee shop was usually packed, so you had to get here super early to get a seat, but today was different. Only a handful of patrons were scattered around the shop, with our friendly barista patiently waiting at the bar for his next guest. As I slowly approached the counter, I felt his eyes do a once-over until they stopped at mine. I thought I pulled myself together well enough to go out into the world, but it was as if he could see through all of it. I greeted him and offered a weak smile attempting to hide my pain. I asked for my usual and turned to see if my seat in the corner was available. Maybe

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