Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
If I were her, I would hate me too. I let her go that night. I let her run out of there alone, not understanding what was happening. I watched her cry as our classmates tore her down and called her names, all because my pride was wounded, and I chose to believe the worst in her.
I failed the only person I’ve ever cared about.
My fingers pinch the bridge of my nose, holding back the urge to vomit. What the fuck have I done to her?
“Excuse me, Mr. Blackwood.” The flight attendant smiles down at me. “The captain has asked that all seatbacks are adjusted into an upright position for landing.”
I blink and nod in a daze, glancing out the window with the first real sense of relief I’ve had in two months. I’m almost home.
As the driver navigates the long, winding mountain roads with extra caution, I rifle through my bags to give my fingers something to do. I’m anxious to get home, and I’m trying not to yell at him because it isn’t his fault I’m a fucking dumbass.
I just need to see Kail. That’s the only thing that matters. But Suzy’s words have been echoing through my mind all day, and now I have a growing sense of morbid curiosity. She said she left me a note. Why would she leave me a note? And why do I feel sick every time I think of it like I already know what she’s written?
The first bag turns up nothing. And after double-checking the contents of the second, I’m trying to convince myself she was just high and didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. But then I see the internal pocket, and as I inch the zipper open, a white envelope comes into view.
My chest squeezes. The song on the radio fades away. Everything narrows to a pinpoint as I tear open the seal and drag out the letter. It’s short, written in messy, hasty scrawl. But the message is painfully clear.
* * *
I have her tablet.
I’ll tell everything.
Give me what I want, and I can make this all go away.
If you don’t, you know what happens next.
* * *
It was Suzy. It was fucking Suzy.
My eyes cloud over with red, and my blood pressure skyrockets. The paper crumples between my fingers as I jerk my gaze up to the driver.
“Do you have a phone I could borrow? There’s been a change of plans.”
Suzy is a creature of habit. Even though I provide her with a generous allowance every month, she will always find the cheapest, seediest place to lay her head at night. Crack houses. Cardboard on street corners. And sometimes, when she hasn’t blown all her money on dope, a shitty motel. Which is exactly where I happen to find her tonight.
It’s in a little shithole a few towns over from Black Mountain where things aren’t so shiny and clean. As soon as I read her letter, I knew she wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Her threat wasn’t an empty one, and just because she hasn’t followed through yet doesn’t mean shit. She wants her money. That’s always the goal. More money to snort up her nose or inject in her veins. She’ll take her high however she can get it, and she’ll bulldoze anyone who stands in her way.
I’ve put up with a lot of shit from Suzy over the years. She’s dragged me with her from one bad situation to the next. She’s used me and exploited me and taken out all her shortcomings with her fists. But through all of it, a small part of me still hoped she’d turn it around one day. That she’d wake the fuck up and decide to love the only son she had.
It hasn’t happened yet. But this is the last chance she’ll get. I’ve loved her when she was at her most unlovable. I accepted the way things were a long time ago. But that was for me. Not Kail. She crossed the invisible line when she fucked with her. I won’t allow her to pollute my life anymore. Something has to give before she destroys the only good thing I’ve ever had.
The window to her room is open, the rusty screen a nonexistent filter for her growling snores. The pile of cigarette butts on the ground just outside the door reminds me of the only homes I ever knew with her. This place is filthy, but there are thousands more just like it. We lived in them from week to week in LA during good times, and during bad times, we slept on the street. Even when I had a steady stream of income from my gigs, Suzy would blow it on her vices and leave me in a hooker’s paradise with nothing to eat. It was only ever about what she needed.