Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 130275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 651(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Nothing about those days was real.
“I’m not going,” I said, a dark warning in my tone. But my dad remained unfazed. He got to his feet. His broad and tall frame had once towered over me, but my six-foot-four height put me three inches above him now, my broad shoulders and athletic body matching his in strength and power. “I’ll never forgive you for this,” I spat, my mom’s quiet cries in the background ricocheting off the constant shield I held around me. Nothing seemed to penetrate these days.
Dad put his hands in his pockets. “Then that’s something I’m just gonna have to live with, kid.”
I knew there was no changing his mind.
I vibrated on the spot, searing heat rushing through me like I was made of lava. Without glancing at my mom, I fled for the door, slamming it on my way out of the house. I threw myself into my Jeep. My breath turned to white mist as it met the frigid cold. Snow lay deep on the surrounding fields, and my boots were soaked through just from the walk from my house to the drive. Winter held New England firmly in its clenched fist.
I put my hands on the steering wheel, squeezing the leather. Like it did every time I got behind the wheel, that night came crashing back into my mind. My hands shook just by sitting in the Jeep. My breath grew labored, and I felt weak, so goddamn weak at how the memories took me down, at how just sitting in a car could ruin me, that I gave myself over to the anger inside. I let it flood my body, hot and livid, until I shook from it. My muscles grew so tight in my chest that they ached. I gritted my teeth, letting the boiling-hot flames inside of me sear any trace of who I was before. I let it build and build, from my toes to my scalp until it was all I was made of. Then I let it take over. I handed over the reins and roared out into the night, full of all the fury that was trying to escape. I slammed my hands on the steering wheel, kicked out my leg until my foot collided with the stereo system, knocking it out of the dashboard until it hung, suspended before me.
When my voice grew hoarse and all my breath was expelled, I stayed tense in the seat and glared at the rural white farm-style house that was once my sanctuary. I hated this place now. My gaze flickered to the top right window, and a slice of pain managed to sneak through, stabbing at my heart. “No,” I hissed, and I averted my eyes from that bedroom. Not now. I wasn’t letting that pain in now.
I tried to move the car. But for a moment, I was paralyzed. Caught in the Purgatory I’d been thrust into a year ago. When everything had flipped on a dime and the cookie-cutter mask that had disguised our idyllic family life was firmly yanked off—
I closed my eyes and let the fire take over. Slamming the key into the ignition, I opened my eyes and skidded out of the drive, the tires scrambling to find purchase on the black ice that coated our dirt driveway. I smelled rubber burning as I pushed the accelerator to its max. The fear of driving was there, like a low-grade fever threatening to spike. But I held it down. Just let myself burn and eviscerate any of the emotion that tried to edge through.
It had to be this way. I couldn’t sink back to that place where everything was empty and lacking—a sinkhole that was impossible to climb out of. Instead, I leaned into this visceral rage that now controlled me. I gave myself over to hate—of the world, of people, of everything that stood to expose what I’d buried down deep.
But mostly, I focused on hating him. The hatred and fury I had toward him were a roaring pyre doused with gasoline.
I blinked, coming back into myself. I had driven without direction, without thought, lost in my head, and found myself approaching the one place I tried to stay away from.
We have to try something …
My mom’s words ran on a loop inside my brain. No, they wanted me gone. They wanted to get rid of the son who was causing them strife. Me! No talk of the other son. But me, the one who remained. The one he had left behind. The one he hadn’t even cared about when did what he did …
The first sign of my chest collapsing began to needle into my sternum. Frantically, I pulled into a parking bay and threw the driver’s door open. The chill from Massachusetts’s harsh winter slapped against my skin. My black Henley, beanie, and ripped jeans did nothing to stave off the cold. But I let it sink into my bones. I wanted to hurt. It was the only time I was reminded that I was still alive. That and the anger that had tunneled into my soul a year ago and had only grown in strength ever since.