Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Colten tapes the end of the gauze bandage. “What look is that?”
“Self-doubt.”
He grunts a laugh. “Self-doubt about what?”
Before I can answer, he returns the supplies to the bathroom.
“I think it gives you pause. Even if only for a few seconds, you wonder if Winston Jeffries is really dead.”
“Nope,” he says from the bathroom. “I know he’s dead. But…” shutting off the light to the bathroom, he peeks around the corner “…I wonder if you’re thinking of my daughter’s beautiful hair when you stroke it or if you’re thinking of him.”
“And if I’m thinking of him?”
Colten frowns, hunching in front of me again. “Do you want me to have self-doubt?”
“No. But if you do, I don’t want you to lie about it.”
He falls to his knees and rests his head on my lap. “No doubts. No cold feet. I love you without a single hesitation. And I trust you with my life.”
“And Reagan’s?”
“Daddy!” Speaking of …
Colten jumps to his feet. “Time to open gifts.” He holds out his hand to take my good hand.
He’s not answering me. That’s … my answer.
We open presents, and Reagan loves all the book stuff I got her. This brings a smile to my face. And that brings one to Colten’s.
“I want to use my sled.”
“Button, it’s nighttime. Tomorrow, you can use it.”
“Tonight. Just once. Please …”
Colten sighs. “Fine. Let’s get your stuff on after I run upstairs and get my snow pants.”
“I can help her,” I say, following Reagan and her sled to the entry.
She pulls on her bib and jacket. I zip it and help her with her hat and gloves.
“Scarf too?”
She nods.
I wrap the scarf around her neck and tie it once, holding one tail with my teeth because I can’t grip with my injured hand.
“I … can’t … b-breath …”
I pull tight. And tighter. And …
“Too tight, Josie.”
I pull a little tighter.
“Pl-please st-stop!”
“Let me get that since your hand is hurt.” Colten takes the ends of the scarf from me and quickly loosens it. “I don’t think you need a scarf. We won’t be out there long.”
Reagan touches her gloved hand to her neck.
“Are you going to watch us out the window?” he asks.
The girls couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe. I did to them what was done to me.
“Josie?”
I shake my head, staring at Reagan. Then my attention shifts to Colten, and I nod.
“Go stand by the patio door and watch us sled.”
Another slow nod. He’s treating me like a child. I would object to this treatment, but I don’t have my wits about me enough to build a case for myself. So I turn and shuffle my feet to the patio door.
I wasn’t going to strangle her. I was just … fuck. I don’t know.
The power of the mind is incredible. Even the best scientists in the world have only touched the surface of its capabilities. If you tell someone something enough, they start to believe it, regardless of its truth. It becomes their new truth.
Winston Jeffries is in my head, a voice whispering to me over and over again. How long before it becomes my truth?
I watch them sled a few times down the tiny hill in the backyard. For a man who thought he didn’t want kids because he was afraid of being his father, Colten is the absolute opposite. He’s engaged and patient. His love for Reagan shines brightly every second of every day. Occasionally, he glances at me. No smile.
It’s sadness.
He loves me, but I’m unwell. He loves Reagan, but she is vulnerable around me because I can’t be trusted. If Katy knew any of this, she would take her daughter and never let Colten see her again. That’s what a good mom would do. And Katy is a good mom. She’s everything I will never be, including the mother of Colten Mosley’s child.
I turn away from the window and slide my socked feet along the hardwood floor toward the stairs.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Reagan’s mitten-covered fists drum against the glass. “Watch me on my tummy!” She’s not ready to come inside, and he’s not ready to let me be out of his sight.
He knows it wouldn’t take me long to end my life. And he knows it wouldn’t take me long to end hers. Not that I would. I wouldn’t. Winston can scream in my head. He can rob me of every ounce of sleep from now until my last breath, but he won’t convince me to hurt Reagan. I’m not him.
I’m not him. I’m not him. I’m not him …
Reagan goes down the hill on her tummy and giggles when her face lands in a pile of snow. “Did you see me, Josie?”
I nod. Fabricate a smile. And wave both hands. That’s what someone who isn’t out of their fucking mind does, right?
Right? Who the hell am I asking? Is this it? Is this the prelude to the end? Nothing but a series of conversations with myself? Battle of the internal monologue?