Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 822(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
“He didn’t break in,” Jenny snarled as she marched ahead. “I let him in. He’s my boyfriend.”
“So you admit it.” She was amused. She made a tsk nose as she looked between us. “Your father wouldn’t approve.”
“Don’t you mean you don’t approve?”
Her mom’s eye twitched.
“Come on, Drake.” Jenny grabbed my hand and led the way towards the gates. I was so relieved to be so close to freedom. Her mother was a royal bitch.
Jenny opened the gate quickly and then said, “Hurry. Go, before she actually does call the cops.”
With a deep frown, I turned and looked her mother dead in the eye. She grimaced, her eyes sweeping my frame. I kissed Jenny, purposely, and her mother looked away, grumbling beneath her breath.
“Go,” Jenny insisted, pushing me back.
I was gone before she could say it again.
Their quarreling started as soon as I was out of eyesight, but I wasn’t out of earshot. It sounded like Jenny was winning the argument, but I knew it was only for now.
I heard her mom shout something that really got under my skin. I normally didn’t let anyone’s opinions get to me, but this was different. It was different because she knew my father. She knew of my mother.
“He is a disgrace!” she shouted. “He might hurt you! Look how big and dangerous he looks! He’s a monster! Stay away from him, Jennifer! Do better for yourself!”
After jogging out of the neighborhood and to my truck, I swung the door open and jumped in, started the ignition immediately, and hauled ass.
I didn’t know what her mother was capable of. I didn’t even know if she’d file a report on me just for the hell if it, or if she’d actually have someone follow me home just to keep tabs on me.
What if she saw my truck? Wrote my plate numbers? What if she got Jenny to turn on me?
“Shit,” I hissed as I hit the freeway, raking a rough hand through my hair.
I needed to get home. Now.
* * *
I arrived home around 3:15 a.m.
The house was quieter than usual. So much seemed off, but I took it as nothing—thinking shit was just getting to me because Jenny’s mom caught us. I couldn’t imagine the hell she was probably going through. Paranoia was settling into my veins. I needed to get this shit off my chest.
I needed someone to vent to.
I knew Jenny would call me as soon as things simmered down.
I figured Grandma Marie was asleep, so I showered and got dressed in more comfortable clothes. After I was done, I walked down the hallway to check on her, yawning along the way.
The door was already cracked open, her bathroom light on.
That was weird. She never left her lights on. She always complained about the light bill, and always shouted at me about it whenever I happened to leave a light on when I was rushing out of the house.
“Grandma?” I called in a whisper.
Other than the bathroom light being on it was completely dark in her bedroom. It also felt colder. Her humidifier wasn’t vibrating in the corner like usual.
“Grandma,” I called a little louder this time, pushing the door open completely.
Something wasn’t right.
I flipped the light switch on the wall. The bedroom was empty, the bed made as if she hadn’t touched it since this morning.
Worry fully consumed me and I stormed towards her bathroom. I tried opening it all the way, but something was blocking the way. It was heavy.
“Grandma! You in there?”
No response, but I could feel her presence. She was here somewhere. She never left home unless Aunt Jane or me took her to the hospital or to the grocery store.
I shoved harder until, finally, the door swung open.
I barged right in, gazing around, expecting her to be standing here, maybe using the bathroom.
But she wasn’t.
That heavy unknown thing against the door was her body, which was sprawled on the floor, and in her hand was the telephone, and a bottle of her prescribed pills. She was probably trying to get them open.
Her face was pale, and as I bent down, immediate panic swept through me. “Grandma!”
I picked her up and took her to the bed, checking for a pulse—anything that would prove to me she was okay.
But she was so cold and motionless. She wasn’t moving at all.
“Shit! Shit! Shit! No—Grandma, please!” I shook her, gripping her shoulders.
I dialed 9-1-1. I couldn’t do this alone. I needed help.
I needed—I needed… fuck, I don’t know. I just knew I needed her here.
This reminded me too much of Mom. Too much of what I witnessed before. The pale face. The dry lips. The eyes that never opened again.
Mom overdosing, unable to control her gagging. She choked so much, and I could only watch because I didn’t know how to make it stop. One minute she was hugging me as I tried to sleep, and the next her body was shaking, her arms stiff, legs locked.