Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 98992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“Or what?” Grabbing her by both of her upper arms I squeeze tightly. Get excited and repulsed by the sight of new fear. “You’re gonna call Mommy and Daddy and tell them how you’ve been sneaking around and seeing the guy you swore you’d never fucking see again?”
“Let go,” she softly urges.
“Gonna tell them how you’ve been skipping class to blow me?”
“Ryder-”
“To tease me with pussy I’ll probably never fucking get?”
“Collins-”
“You gonna call the cops instead? Tell them that your secret boyfriend is trespassing now because he hurt your poor, little, baby feelings?” Conflicting emotions clash against one another and their inability to find common ground seems to only irk me more. “Fuck, if you’re gonna do that shit might as well make it worth the fucking call.” I roughly release her and take a couple steps back to knock her T.V. onto the floor.
The loud noise makes her jump damn near ten feet into the air.
Both the sight and the sound of her gasp please the little monster inside of me that hates us for being here instead of somewhere else smoking or drinking. “Oops.”
“Stop it, Collins.”
“Nah…” I kick around some more shit in her space before heading back into the living room where I start riffling through the entertainment center drawers knowing that her parents keep an emergency stash of cash around here somewhere.
Can’t remember exactly where.
But I know they fucking do.
They care enough about their daughter to “always have her covered”.
Fucking brat.
I toss out random books and magazines during my grumbled pursuit. “I just need a few fucking bucks…”
“Get out!”
If I could just get a hold of that cash, it’d really help me the fuck out. I wasn’t expecting my school credit card to just be completely cut off with no warning. I mean, how the fuck am I supposed to get gas? Or smokes? Or pay for that bag of Guerilla Glue that Ivo’s been saving particularly for me?!
“Out, Collins!”
I just need a few bucks to get by for a week.
Until I can convince my fucking father to give me a new card.
Or Noah to loan me cash to eat.
And drink.
And buy just one or two rounds of nose candy or Diamonds.
Fuck, if only they really did last forever like the damn jewelry.
Oh…I could sell her ring if I can’t find the spare cash.
“Where is it?!” Stepping on DVDs that I’ve knocked over onto the floor, I incoherently shout, “Where the fuck is the money, Presley! Give it to me or give me your goddamn ring!”
Her sobs should register as a reason to stop, but I can’t.
Physically my body won’t stop the movements in motion.
Or the pounding in my head.
Or the itching.
Or the fucking twitching.
“Collins, I’m fucking begging you to please st-”
“Once I get that cash.” Tipping over one of the couch side tables, I grunt at the random shit that falls to my feet. “Just tell me where the fuck it is!”
Unexpectedly, she tugs on the back of my t-shirt. “Just fucking go!”
“Fuck off!” is barked at the same time I turn around to lightly push her away, yet the force I end up using sends her flying backwards. She slips on one of the DVDs or magazines that’s on the floor and hits the back of her head on the wooden coffee table.
I don’t expect her to collapse onto the ground.
I don’t expect her not to move.
I don’t expect her not to fucking speak.
Cautiously, I approach her still body, “B-b-b-baby...?” When she doesn’t respond, I lower myself to my knees beside her unmoving figure. “Pres…”
Words.
I need words.
Or a sound.
Fuck!
Any fucking sound!
“Presley…?” Pushing the hair from her face reveals a cold, clammy face that I find myself begging desperately to. “Look Pres, I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry. I’m so so so fucking sorry…”
Nothing.
“I-I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I didn’t mean any of that shit I said.”
Still nothing.
“I never meant to touch you like that, baby. I just…I just…”
The silence in the room reaches deafening levels that have my eardrums splitting in two.
“Can you…please…just um…get up? Okay? Can you please just get up and let me know you’re okay and I’ll fucking leave. I’ll just fucking go. I’ll…I’ll…”
Newfound terror creeps through my veins as tears appear in my eyes that are sweeping her immobile figure.
Holy fucking shit.
I’ve killed her.
--
“She wasn’t dead.” I sniffle, rubbing my nose with the back of my hand, chalk cigarette parked unwantedly on the ground. “But fuck, was I scared.” Tears continue to stream down my cheeks as the lifeless image of my soulmate, my other half, the only place I’ve ever called home, haunts me openly in the daylight for the first time in a decade. “I called 911 but bailed out the back when I heard them pull up.”
“Why didn’t you stop then?” Doc’s voice is barely heard over how loud his scribbling sounds to me at the moment. “Why was that not the catalyst to stop the destructive fucking behavior?”