Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 119212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Or was it early morning by now?
Either way, the hallway they’d put me in wasn’t busy. It was almost abandoned. I was sitting on a lone bench. The lights were flickering and one of the bulbs was out. It must’ve been a hallway they never used because I’d see people go past the hallway, farther down. Cops. Cops bringing in whoever they were arresting. Other people being led by cops. I didn’t know the time so I was only guessing.
I had my purse, but my phone was dead.
They’d taken Cut into a back room for his statement.
Then they asked for my statement, and when I was done, they led me out here.
This was where I still was, waiting. Sitting. Cut was back there.
So that’s where I was when I turned and saw Chad walking past the hallway.
He was back.
For sensory-wise, this hallway was nice. A small echo from the people down there. The low lights were almost soothing. I could’ve slipped into a trance from the flickering above me. It wasn’t hot or cold, but I was also slightly numb. I must’ve been, which wasn’t my usual. I felt all if I went a certain way, but this time, I was numb.
How odd.
Or I must’ve felt numb because when I saw Chad, I didn’t feel a thing.
Those bruises were still on his neck from me. He was here. Someone must’ve called him or told him to come down here and the police would ask about his bruises.
He’d tell them, because why wouldn’t he? He’d gone back on his word to Cut before so I had no reason to believe he wouldn’t this time, even though he said he’d ‘make it up’ to Cut. Pfft. He was a liar.
Like Deek.
Who was a murderer.
They both hurt me. They both hurt my mom.
She was sick. She was a junkie.
She didn’t ask for that second needle. Deek decided. He wanted to be rid of her. He didn’t do anything for me. That was a sick man’s justification, the excuse he was telling himself, but he killed her because he simply didn’t want to deal with her anymore. As long as she lived, as long as I lived, he’d have to. And Chad--maybe I wasn’t so numb after all? My stomach rolled over thinking about Chad and my mom again.
I’d been blasé before, telling Cut that it hadn’t been a ‘bad night’ in my old world, but it took on a different feel now. Now that I knew what he’d done with her before, and then what Deek did to her later. Everything took on a different feel. A more raw feel. Primitive. I felt scraped open, my insides were on display for everyone to see and judge.
I felt like scum, like the byproduct for what they did to her. They did it to me, too.
I felt like a victim. I hated feeling like a fucking victim.
They took her away and no one questioned it. Not even me.
Someone should’ve questioned it. Why then? Was it accidental? Had something happened earlier that might’ve made her do it, if she did it herself? No one asked. It was an overdose and that was it. They were all wrong.
She was a person.
She was my jailer at times.
She neglected me.
She emotionally abused me.
But she was my mom.
She was taken from me.
Yes. The world felt a little different now.
I heard footsteps first, and I looked.
Chad had spotted me. He was coming toward me, and he paused, seeing me look at him. I didn’t know what he read on my face, but he faltered mid-step. He stopped. He frowned. He started to turn to leave. He stopped.
He looked at me.
And he looked at me.
And he still looked at me.
The fucker couldn’t decide.
Then he must’ve.
He pushed his hands in his pockets, his shoulders lowered, and he started for me again.
I was glaring the whole time.
This was not Happy Zen-like Cheyenne.
“Hey.” He was rigid, waiting.
I bit out, “Hey.” Fuckface.
He grimaced, then coughed. “I—uh—Sasha called me, told me what happened.”
That made me laugh because what did happen? A drunk asshole confessed to killing someone. How does that get relayed over the phone?
“Why did she call you? You’re not his son.”
He flinched, his hand coming out and running through his hair. “I—uh—I don’t know.” His hand went back in his pocket. “Is that what I should do? I’m not going to call Hunter, but I could call Natalie?”
“No.”
That came out as a guttural bark, like it was forcing its way out of me.
Natalie would know—though, maybe she did? Everything went down discreetly, as far as a confession and an arrest. Cut called the police. He waited outside with Deek. He made sure I went back inside, but I didn’t leave the door. I stood just inside and Sasha and Melanie stayed with me. I think Hendrix played guard duty, keeping anyone from seeing us after that.