Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
I went too far. I know it even before his head snaps around, before spit flies from his mouth when he bellows a single word. "Enough!"
His face is a mask of seething fury when he picks up a candle from the coffee table and hurls it across the room. I see it happening in slow motion, the candle tumbling through the air, end over end, sailing toward the fireplace.
Toward the urn over the fireplace.
Do I think I can stop it? I don't know. I only know I lunge for it, reaching out with both hands, but it's too late. I was never going to stop this from happening.
My shriek rings out in my ears, but the sound of the urn crashing to the floor is louder. The lid falls off and just like that, what's left of my mother spreads across the floor and hangs in the air. I'm frozen in shock, staring at the mess. My brain can't handle what my eyes are telling it.
It's Romero's voice that breaks through. "Oh, God."
"No. No, no, no!" My knees go out and I drop to the floor with my head in my hands. I want to reach out and scoop it all back up, but it's everywhere and I don't want her all over me. However, now she's all over the floor so what am I supposed to do? "No," I moan. It's the only word I can think of.
"Fuck, I am so sorry." He crouches close to me. "I'll clean this up. It'll be—"
"You can't clean it up! Asshole!" I can barely breathe as sobs shake me from head to toe, barely seeing through the tears. "You can't just scoop it up! These are her ashes! Don't touch them!"
He makes the mistake of putting a hand on my shoulder. I fling it off, then shove him away. I could kill him. I won't be satisfied until I do. "You bastard. Is there anything else you want to take from me? Do you want to hurt me again? Why not? This was the last fucking thing I had! And I'll never get it back!"
My head is spinning and I think I'm going to be sick. There's sweat rolling down the back of my neck. I can't stop shaking. And I want to hurt him; I need to hurt him.
"What are you talking about? You're hysterical."
"Don't you fucking tell me how I am!" I fight my way to my feet, swaying, breathless, as one sob after another shakes my body. "From the beginning, you started taking things from me. You took my wing in the house. You took all of Dad's attention. His pride. And then, when he finally decided to start paying attention to me again, what did he do? He made you my fucking guard dog! You've been hanging over me for most of my life. You took him from me, and now you took her!"
"I never meant to do that! That's not my fault!"
"No, nothing's your fault. The way you shut me out. The way you kiss me, then make it seem like I'm a filthy whore you can't be bothered to touch! You tell me you want me, then you treat me like garbage. I don't even know who I am anymore because of you! I don't know what I want. I don't know where I belong!"
"What are you talking about? How was any of that because of me?"
I don't know what I'm saying anymore. It's all coming out like water through a fire hose. And now that it's out I'm weak, but when he touches me, my hands tighten to fists and I pummel his chest and shoulders. "Leave me alone! Damn you! I hate you!"
All he does is grip my arms and hold on tight no matter how I fight to be free. "You listen to me. All I ever wanted was to help you. That's why we're here. I thought I could help you. I thought I could bring you back to your dad and Bianca. And to me."
"Bullshit. You don't care. The way you talk to me. The names you call me. You've never given a shit about me. You resented me as much as I resented you. Don't try to rewrite history now."
"You really think I don't care? That I never cared?"
"That's exactly what I just said."
His eyes dart over my face before he pulls me in, his teeth bared in a snarl, his breath hitting my face as he takes one rasping breath after another. "If I never cared, then why did I slit that bastard's throat for you?"
For the second time in minutes, his words drag me out of a fog of raw emotion. "What?" I croak, going still in his grip.
"I said, why did I slit his throat from ear to ear and watch him bleed to death? That's what I did, Tatum. I killed Kristoff because of what he did to you. How he hurt you. How he beat you down until there was almost nothing left of you. The real you, the person you really are. He deserved to die, and I made that happen. For you. It was always for you."