Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
“Don’t move,” Lauren barks. “Don’t even think about trying to leave, because this knife will be in him before you make it out the door.” I’m sure Ava’s realized by now that the scar on my stomach wasn’t caused in a car accident. So she’ll know Lauren is serious. Deadly serious. “You’ve not even heard the best part.” Lauren flashes me a satisfied smile, enjoying this as much as only a psycho would. Performing. Shooting for the most shocking, the most extreme reactions. “So it would be nice if you stick around to hear me out.”
“Lauren,” I say, my voice low. What the fuck is she expecting from this? That Ava will hear her, leave me, and we’ll live happily ever after?
“What? You don’t want me to tell your young, pregnant wife that you killed our daughter?”
It hits Ava like a boulder. Fuck, she’s going to pass out. The stress, the pressure, the emotions. But if I move?
I look at Lauren. “No,” I yell, seeing her moving toward Ava, the knife poised. My God, no.
I fly across the kitchen like a bull, catching Ava, blocking Lauren’s path to her. “Fuck,” I hiss, my vision blurring as pain radiates through my body and an awful sound invades my ears, like a squelch. I still for a moment, paralyzed. And then I feel the knife in my side. I breath out on a rush and start to shake, adrenaline kicking in. Urgency. I haven’t got long.
I spin, grab her, and smash her to the ground, and Lauren’s hands grip my wrists as I straddle her, heaving, the pain getting worse, the feeling of warm wetness creeping across my shirt. I blink, over and over, trying to clear my vision. And when I do, she smiles. She’s fucking stabbed me. Again. But she was aiming for Ava. For our babies.
I roar, losing all control, and punch her in the face. Only Lauren would laugh. “I didn’t kill my daughter,” I bellow, drawing back and going again, sinking my fist into her face, the sounds of her laughing unbearable. How can she laugh when we’re talking about Rosie. How?
“You did,” she sings, delighted, her hands hitting at my chest, catching me in my side. The pain flares. “The moment she got in that car, you sent her to her death.”
“It wasn’t my fault!” I grunt, feeling dizzy, the flow of blood leaving my body so fast I can actually feel it pouring out of me.
“Carmichael should never have taken our daughter,” she screams, laughing. “You should’ve been watching her!” She spits out some blood, baring red-stained teeth. “I spent five years in a padded cell. I’ve spent twenty years wishing I’d never let you see her.” She spits at me, scratching at my sleeves. “You left me without you, then you killed the only piece of you I had left! I’ll never let you replace her,” she screams. “No one else gets a piece of you!”
Deranged and desperate, black dots now hampering my vision, I swing aimlessly, feeling and hearing bones crunch against my fist.
And then . . . silence.
No more tormenting words.
No more laughing.
The adrenaline leaves me, and suddenly air isn’t so easy to find. I gasp, my lungs burning, as I raise my hands and hold them in front of me, trying to focus on them. “Fuck,” I whisper, looking down at my shirt.
“Nothing will break us.”
Ava?
I search for her, finding her on her knees. I have to get to her. I have to get her out of here. Struggling to my feet, I wobble, trying so hard to shake the dizziness away. And isn’t it incredible that now, when I can’t see a fucking thing, I still see Ava. So clearly. But I don’t like it. The mess of her face, the tragic despair in her eyes. “I’m so, so sorry.” I barely get the words past the lump in my throat, my steps heavy and clumsy. I feel so weak, my heart racing.
“It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.”
I put one foot in front of the other, but I don’t seem to be going anywhere. She stabbed me. I swallow, trying to wet my mouth, suddenly unable to talk. Ava, call an ambulance. My legs start to give, my body becoming too heavy to hold me up, and I drop to a knee, gasping. There’s no air to be found. Ava’s bewildered. My breathing becomes short and sharp, anything deeper causing slicing pain in my stomach.
Help me.
I sway on my knee, my uncoordinated hand reaching for my jacket and shoving it back, showing Ava the knife wedged in my side.
“No!”
I lose my balance and strength, collapsing to my back, my head hitting the kitchen floor with a smack. My eyelids feel so heavy, my body so fucking cold.
“Oh God, Jesse!”
Don’t panic, baby.
“Oh God, no no no no no. Please no!”