Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 135517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
This felt more like someone who was tired of the bullshit, which I have to admit, I’ve been over for about four years now. His showing up here did one thing for me; it showed me that she hadn’t won like I’d thought because, hey, he was here, wasn’t he? But then I got to thinking, what exactly were either of us trying to win?
I mean, I love the guy, more fool I, but he’s a damn mess. I started laughing again because it hit me like a ton of bricks that I’d spent the last five years mourning over a drug-addicted jackass. He looked worried again until I waved him off, “I’m just having a moment, Ryder, no need to look spooked.” And if you mention my mental illness again, I just might end you right here and now, you waste of space.
I made his coffee like it hadn’t been five years since I last did it. I remembered exactly how he liked it, and that pissed me off, so I slammed the cup down next to him, wishing some of the hot brew would splash onto his arm and burn him and hoping that he didn’t get hurt all at the same time.
I had to settle for a dirty look since I couldn’t go through with it, then turned to the refrigerator to get some ice for his cheek. “Does it hurt?” I pressed the ice wrapped in a tea towel against his right cheek, then moved it to the left with a frog in my throat. I hate violence, and as much as I hate him, I love him more.
“No, it’s fine. Plus, I deserved it.” He covered my hand with his, and for a few seconds, I let myself enjoy the simple touch before pulling away and moving across the room.
“You have a lot of writing to do; maybe I should leave you to it.”
“No, please stay.”
He gave me that puppy dog look, and I felt myself melting before I remembered who I was and who he was and put my resting bitch face back on. “Fine, get to it then.” I took a seat at the furthest end of the island, away from him, and waited.
***
*Ryder*
I didn’t know why she was making me do this; I could barely remember the last five years of my life, let alone the eight we were together before that. Jeez, has it really been that long? Have we really known each other since we were kids? How the hell did everything get so out of whack?
This being sober thing wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. The memories, the pain, I had to relive it all as if it were now happening when I’d spent so much time trying to forget. I had to do it, though, not only because Tyler and Zak had drilled into me that honesty was the only way to go if I wanted to win her back but because I knew she deserved it. But I hated like hell that I was going to hurt her again.
I wasn’t exactly the best boyfriend. In the beginning, I was, but that only lasted about two years. That’s when our first breakup happened, and it’s also about the time I got acquainted with Matt. I’d already known Mary by then, of course, but I was steering clear of her. Matt had brought her back into my life at some point.
And then the drugs started; I didn’t even recall the first time I took a hit of something stronger than weed; it’s all a blur. I did know it had to have been at one of those parties I’d started going to. I remember back then she hated those types of parties and never wanted to hang out with certain types of people.
I remember resenting her for not wanting me to have fun, which I know now was just her way of trying to save me. She’d been in the game way longer than I had and knew the signs, which I didn’t. She’d done her best to protect me, and what had I done? I’d spurned her; I’d let others turn me against her with lies and innuendos.
My hands moved faster now as I poured it all out as fast as it came. And even though it was cathartic for me, I dreaded what it would do to her. There were things I wrote that she knew nothing about, things I knew would hurt her to the core. Things I would’ve chosen to keep hidden if only to spare her.
The more I wrote, the more I realized what an awful human being I’d become, and it broke my heart. Not for myself, but for the innocent young girl she was, the beautiful innocent that I’d decimated with my actions.