Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 66057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
It was all I needed to hear, the choice was made for me. I helped her into her car, buckling her into the passenger seat before getting into the driver’s side.
My heart was beating out of my chest, thinking that Christian would say something, anything to stop me, tell me he loved me and didn’t mean it. That he’d be here for me like he had been since the first time we’d talked.
He didn’t.
Not one word.
No I love you.
I’m sorry.
Nothing.
Silence.
With sorrow in his gaze, he watched as I buckled myself into the driver’s seat and never broke eye contact with me. For the first time, his stare hurt me in ways I never thought possible when it came to him. I could still feel his love, but I could also feel his hate.
I swear we just looked at each other for seconds, minutes, hours, both of us lost in our own thoughts, our own demons.
Mine was my mother.
His … was me.
He might have been my savior, but I was definitely his demise.
Slowly, I found the courage to start the car, thinking this was the moment he’d run toward me and get in to help me drive her home like he’d done so many times I lost count at this point.
Again, he didn’t.
He simply watched as I backed out of his yard, his heart breaking, his soul aching. I was taking him into Hell right there with me.
With tears streaming down my face, I looked into his eyes one last time before I drove away, leaving my heart with him…
Knowing I’d never get it back.
By the time we were on the highway, the consequences of his words started to take over, and there was a huge lump in my throat, making it hard to breathe, to swallow, to feel anything but agony for what I was putting us through at the hands of my mom.
I wanted to hate her.
Resent her.
But all I could feel was pity.
For her.
Me.
Christian.
Addiction was a cruel motherfucker. It held onto everything in its path, leaving only destruction in its wake. It wasn’t comfort, it was an illusion, a cop out, an excuse to keep making bad choices. It was that voice in the back of your head, that shadow that always followed you, the devil on your shoulder, when nothing else mattered but another drink inside of you.
I knew all that, yet there I was, allowing it to control my life. You see, my mom was addicted to alcohol, and I was addicted to trying to save her life. I didn’t know which one was worse. They both seemed to destroy me in the end.
I gasped in and out at rapid speed as I contemplated over and over if he’d meant it. If we were over, done, finished. I couldn’t live without him. He was my everything.
“He didn’t mean it,” I whispered to myself, needing the false reassurance that I didn’t fuck up the best thing in my life.
When all of a sudden, my mom woke up from her dead sleep. “Kinleyyyy, I can drives,” she slurred, trying to grab the wheel.
“Mom, what are you doing? Stop!”
She didn’t. “Go back toooo Christian’ssss, and justs let me drivee.”
“Mom! Let go of the wheel! You’re going to make us crash!”
I swerved left and then right, and for a moment I thought we might have lost control of the car, but when I saw that she’d fallen back into her seat, I finally exhaled a sigh of relief.
Except it was too soon.
She lunged for the wheel again and yanked it as far right as it could go.
“MOM!” I screamed bloody murder.
It vibrated throughout the entire car as my life flashed before my eyes. I slammed on the brakes, causing our car to spin in a three-sixty.
Around and around we went for what felt like hours but could have been seconds. I instinctively placed one of my arms over my face while the other landed on my mother’s chest. Thinking we were going to be okay.
Choices…
We all had them.
Christian wanted me to choose him.
I didn’t.
I chose her instead.
The second I realized that.
Everything. Went. Black.
—Christian—
I was leaning with my head against the seat in her hospital room, my legs spread out in front of me, and my arms crossed over my chest.
“Honey, you should go home and get some rest. You’ve been here for two days,” Mom said.
I replied with my eyes closed, “I’m not leaving.”
“Christian, you heard the doc—”
“Mom,” I argued, narrowing my eyes at her.
She sighed and nodded. “I’ll go get you some coffee. Do you want anything else?”
I shook my head.
Leaning over, she kissed the top of my head. “She’s going to be okay.”
“I know.”
My body was exhausted, but my mind wouldn’t stop thinking. I couldn’t sleep even if I wanted to. I would remember the phone call from the hospital for the rest of my life. Years ago, I became Kinley’s emergency contact. She didn’t have anyone else but me.