The Revenge of Anthony Riggs

0005: The Cold Pavement

The following morning, Anthony awoke with a dull ache in his chest, the weight of exhaustion pressing heavily on him. His head lifted from the cold surface of the dining table where he had unintentionally spent the night. Stretching his arms, he yawned deeply, wiping away the drool that had pooled at the corner of his mouth. The events of the previous day came rushing back, and he found himself momentarily disoriented, surprised that he had fallen asleep in the dining area.

He picked up the empty plate and glass from his midnight meal, his movements sluggish as he made his way to the kitchen. After placing them in the cabinet where used dishes were stored, he paused for a moment, staring at nothing in particular. The kitchen, usually a place of comfort, now felt foreign to him— just like everything else in his life.

When he returned to the bedroom, the tension in the air was palpable. Veronica was still asleep, her figure barely discernible under the sheets. Anthony stood by the doorway for a moment, wondering what he was even doing there. The urge to say something— to demand answers or to scream in frustration— rose within him, but he quickly suppressed it. Instead, he turned away and headed to the restroom to freshen up for the day ahead.

The shower did little to wash away the heaviness that clung to him, but he forced himself through the motions. Back in the bedroom, he approached the drawer beside his bed, retrieving his body lotion and hair cream. As he methodically applied them, Veronica stirred, slowly waking up. But neither of them spoke. The silent treatment was mutual, thick with unresolved anger and hurt. Anthony’s ego wouldn’t allow him to be the first to break the silence, and Veronica— stubborn as always— would never initiate a conversation after a fight, no matter how severe.

Finished with his morning routine, Anthony moved to the closet and selected his work clothes. He dressed with his back to Veronica, the silence between them deafening. As he buttoned up his shirt, he stole a glance over his shoulder. In that fleeting moment, he noticed Veronica’s attention was fixed on her phone, a faint giggle escaping her lips. The sound cut through him like a knife. While he was barely holding himself together, she seemed completely unbothered— amused, even.

Anthony clenched his jaw and continued dressing, pulling on his socks and shoes with mechanical precision. He strapped his wristwatch on and walked to the mirror for a final check. But it wasn’t his reflection he was interested in. His eyes drifted to Veronica’s reflection instead, watching her sat in bed, her fingers tapping away at her phone. 

Their eyes met for a split second in the mirror, and Anthony’s heart sank further. Her gaze was as cold and detached as ever, a stark contrast to the warmth they once shared. He dropped his eyes from the mirror, feeling a pang of regret and frustration. With a sigh, he turned to her and broke the silence, his voice barely masking the hurt. “Good morning, how was your night?”

Veronica barely looked up from her phone. She met his gaze for only a second, her expression unreadable, before dismissively returning to whatever held her attention on the screen. She didn’t bother to respond. Anthony shook his head, and without another word, he walked out of the room, descended the stairs, and left the house.

And as he pulled into the parking lot of his office building, he found a spot and parked, shutting off the engine. He leaned back in his seat, staring blankly at the roof of his car. His mind was racing with thoughts of how he'd keep his composure if he encountered his boss, Alkins, today. The mere idea of holding himself back from breaking Alkins' jaw made his fists clench involuntarily. He couldn't afford to create a scene, not today. After a deep sigh, he muttered to himself, "You've got this. Everything is going to be fine."

Just as he reached for the door handle to step out, a blue Chevrolet Camaro SS pulled up beside him. Anthony’s heart sank as he recognized the car immediately— Edward. He knew Edward well enough to anticipate what was coming. A confrontation was inevitable, but Anthony silently vowed not to give in to Edward’s provocations, no matter how hard he tried.

Stepping out of his car, he saw Edward standing right next to him. Anthony ignored him and began walking toward the office building, trying to focus on his breathing and the rhythm of his steps. But, as expected, Edward couldn’t resist the opportunity to taunt him. Quickly catching up, Edward’s voice dripped with mockery, "Love the new design on your car. It looks fantastic," he sneered, clearly referencing the deep scratch that had marred Anthony's vehicle.

Without even turning to face him, Anthony replied calmly, "I know, right? I'd refer you to the artist, but I don't have their number."

Edward let out a mocking laugh, trailing behind him. "No need. The artist is pleased to hear you love it."

The realization hit Anthony like a ton of bricks— Edward had done it. He stopped dead in his tracks and slowly turned to face Edward, his eyes blazing with fury. "Did you make that mess on my car?" His voice was low, trembling with barely contained rage.

Edward smirked, his eyes glinting with cruel satisfaction. "Yeah, I did. And I'm glad you loved it."

The words were like gasoline on a fire. Before Anthony could think, he lunged at Edward, his fist drawn back and ready to strike. But Edward was too fast. He saw the punch coming and dodged it effortlessly, bending just out of reach. Then, in one swift motion, Edward countered with a brutal uppercut that connected solidly with Anthony's jaw. The impact sent Anthony crashing to the ground, gasping for breath. The world spun around him as pain exploded through his skull, and within moments, darkness swallowed him whole as he passed out on the cold pavement.

The office parking lot fell silent, save for Edward's triumphant scoff as he looked down at Anthony’s unconscious form. Adjusting his jacket, he cast one last disdainful glance at his fallen opponent before casually strolling into the building, as if nothing had happened— leaving Anthony's body sprawled motionless on the cold pavement of the parking lot.