Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
My entire body freezes, and I can’t move. My legs won’t work, my body stiffens, and my heart stops beating for just a second. What is in front of me is the stuff nightmares are made of.
On the side of the road, curled onto her side, is a woman – her blond hair flowing out across the dark asphalt, her pale legs lighting up as I shine my flashlight over her. Blood, coming from a wound in her head, flows out onto the road. Gasping, my hand flies to my mouth as I rush over, reaching down for her. I take her shoulder and shake it, but she doesn’t move.
“Hey. Hey. Are you okay? Wake up. Please wake up.”
She doesn’t.
I roll her to her back, and I know, even before I reach for her pulse, just by the vacant look in her eyes and the blood pooling around her head, that she is already gone. Reaching down, I carefully check her pulse anyway. There isn’t one. She’s gone. Stumbling backward, screaming out in horror, I stand, staring down at the lifeless body of the woman I just hit. This can’t be happening. It must be a nightmare. I’m going to wake up any moment.
Sobbing, I frantically dial 9-1-1 only to stop before I press the button.
If I call them, I’m going to prison. For the rest of my life, I’ll be locked away, never to be free again.
It was an accident.
I didn’t mean to.
Nobody will understand that.
My life is over.
Dropping to my knees, I wail, an agonized sound leaving my throat at the reality of what I’ve done. My entire body trembles as I sit on the road, sobbing until my throat burns and my body trembles. Then, I get to my feet and turn, walking numbly toward my car. I get in without thought, my brain shutting down, my body broken, and I drive away.
I drive away and leave her there.
I drive away, like the heartless coward I am.
11
“Myla?”
I turn at the familiar voice calling my name. Placing the paintbrush down, I see my ex-boyfriend walking into my house, a box in his hands. I haven’t seen him since I left, and I was certain he had given up when the calls stopped, but here he is, standing in front of me, staring at me with those desperate, puppy dog eyes.
Well, fuck me.
I can’t deal with this right now.
“Seriously, Theo, what are you doing here?”
Nothing about Theo has changed. He is still the tall, lean, blond guy I spent years of my life with. His blue eyes are still round and doughy, and his smile still makes two dimples pop out in his cheeks. He’s handsome, in that boy-next-door kind of way. No stubble on his clean-shaven chin, no tattoos on his perfectly sculpted biceps, none of those things will ever destroy his perfect features.
His words, not mine.
“I’ve been calling now for weeks. I have been worried sick about you,” he says, staring at me, his eyes raking over my body and narrowing as if he isn’t pleased with what he’s looking at. “You look terrible. Is everything okay?”
I exhale, gritting my teeth for calm. “I’m fine. We broke up, remember? The last time I checked, that meant I don’t have to answer your calls ...”
He looks hurt by that. “We were together for a long time, Myla. The least you could do is talk to me.”
“About what?” I mutter. “I’m not changing my mind. Now, can you tell me why you’re here?”
He holds the box out. “This is a box of Chloe’s things. I finished cleaning up what was left in her apartment after you skipped town. I thought you’d want them.”
Skipped town.
He’s making out like I left without an explanation.
“I took everything that mattered to her; I told you the rest could be donated.”
“I’m going to say you’ll want to see what’s in here. It seems like it matters.”
I take the box out of his hands. “Thanks.”
“So, this is the house she left you?” he asks, glancing around. “It’s a mess.”
“Which is exactly why I’m here fixing it up.”
His eyes move back to mine. “Can we talk, please?”
I place the box down on a chair outside and cross my arms. I’m not in the mood. Hell, I’m barely tolerating myself right now, let alone letting someone else in. “There is nothing to talk about. We’re finished. I’m not changing my mind. I’m sorry if that hurts, but you need to move on.”
There is that hurt puppy look again, the one where his eyes crinkle and his lip pushes out just a touch, like I’m the worst person to ever enter his life.
Not today, buddy.
“I love you,” he says, his voice softer now.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t feel the same. Please, go home, Theo. Move on with your life. I’m seeing someone else now.”