Gemotions

The dog-eared copy of "Eliza's Ascent" sat on the mahogany coffee table, mocking her. Every saccharine detail, every manufactured hardship, every fabricated triumph. A low growl rumbled in Eliza's chest, a sound she hadn't made since her childhood scraped knees. She picked up a heavy crystal ashtray, its facets glinting in the afternoon sun, and brought it down on the book, a clean, satisfying crack. The pages fanned out, revealing the carefully constructed lies. She started tearing the pages, ripping them into shreds, enjoying the primal act of destruction.

A phone call. "Eliza, darling, have you seen the reviews? They're ecstatic!" Her agent's voice, bubbly and oblivious. "It’s a sensation!" Eliza squeezed the phone so tight her knuckles were white. "Is it?" she croaked. "Because I'm not feeling particularly… ecstatic." The agent kept prattling, oblivious to the icy anger that had taken root in Eliza's soul.

Eliza hung up, then turned and went to the garage. She got in her car, the car she had spent years building and refining. She would not let this go unpunished.