Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
He took my head in his hand, fisted my hair in his hand, and then proceeded to knock it against the wall so hard that I felt the burn as the skin tore open. I knew I would need to go to the doctor. I also knew I would have to come up with another story about it.
Another story, the words feel like I’m being kicked in the stomach, sucking all the air out of my lungs. I take three gulps down, hoping it dulls the way my body feels, but instead, her face flashes through my mind. The way her whole body shook while she said, But, just so you know, I died that night also. I’m breathing, but inside I’m dead. There is nothing left for you to destroy.
I take the bottle of whiskey, pulling more gulps. My eyes look at the bottle in my hand, right before I pull back my arm and pitch it across the room. The light on over the stove is dim, so I can see the golden liquid drip down the wall, just like the tears that poured down her face. My head hangs down, I took your verbal punches over and over again, just like I did with Waylon. Unlike with him, I guess I deserve yours.
I put my head back, but it feels so heavy I have no choice but to let it fall in front of me, before I turn and make my way to my bedroom. As I collapse on the bed, my hand goes to my chest as I turn my head to the side, the guilt hitting me like a freight train head-on, crushing me and taking me under.
All the times I saw them fighting, and we would always make jokes about it. The way he would reach out to grab her and yank her to him. The times he would hiss at her, and she would avoid looking at everyone. The times they would walk in and you would know they were fighting, since they would sit apart, and he would say she was having a hissy fit. All of it flashes in my mind, making it harder and harder to breathe. I turn to the side, seeing her face in my mind, her face and no one else. Nothing comes in but her face as I remember the last time I saw her before I found out she left town.
I was drunk, so fucking drunk, it was a wonder I wasn’t falling all over the place. The day in court, listening to her on the stand tell everyone how she knew he was drunk that night. The floor I was standing on felt like it opened up, and I fell into the dark hole. I avoided even looking at her until it was the anniversary of their death. Two years since Jennifer was taken from me.
I walked to her house, held on to trees to help me not fall on my face. Walking up to her door and balling my hand into a fist, I pounded over and over again. She opened the door, the light from the hallway on, and I could see her face. Her eyes swollen from crying, the tip of her nose red. I wanted her to hurt even more than she did.
“How could you do this?” I asked her. “How could you do this to Jennifer?”
“Charlie.” Her voice came out in a whisper. “I never wanted this to happen.”
I should have listened to her, but I didn’t. I was so wrapped up in my grief I didn’t care about anyone else’s. “All of this time, you fucking knew.”
“I know,” she admitted. “I was waiting until the results came back.”
“You fucking knew he was drunk!” I roared in her face. “You did this.” My face went closer to hers. “You could have stopped him.”
“I tried,” she said, “I tried to get him to give me the keys.”
“You didn’t try hard enough.” My words were like a knife stabbing her again, the wince on her face should have had me step back, but instead, the rage took over. “It should be you in that grave, rotting in hell with him.” That was the last thing I said to her before I turned and stumbled into the forest. Collapsing on my knees in the middle of the forest, I lay on my side, wishing for the pain to go away.
I get up in time to make it to the bathroom before I throw up, closing my eyes, seeing her there. Not Jennifer. Autumn. Her face white from me yelling at her, every single time I had a chance. Every single time I could spew hatred her way, I did. Sharpening my knife each time, not caring that I was leaving her with the pain she was in. Ignoring all of the signs. Falling back on my ass as I put my back to the wall, I want to go to her.