Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“Okay,” I breathe, ready to leave the room.
“Jolene?”
I stop, peering over my shoulder at Brynn. “Yeah?”
“Why did you really help me?”
I turn fully to look at her, even as I hear the sirens growing louder. They’ll be here any minute now.
“I’ll go cut Dominic out the cords,” Sam murmurs.
When he’s gone, I draw in a breath and release it, eyeing Shavonne who is trembling with damp eyes before focusing on Brynn again.
“Because I see myself in you, Brynn. I see a girl who once loved her life but got knocked off her feet and found it hard to stand up straight again.” I swallow to block the dryness in my throat as Brynn uses the back of her arm to swipe tears from her eyes. “You and me? We’re just two people who’ve been swimming against a current. We get dragged by tidal waves, or bitten by sharks, but we keep going because we know there’s a safe place for us somewhere. We don’t give up because we want to find that safe place and live in peace, so that’s why, Brynn. Because I see you.”
Brynn sniffles, and a tear rolls down Shavonne’s cheek as she drops her head.
“Let’s stick to the plan and with the same confessions, okay?” I ask. “Nothing has changed.”
Brynn lays on her side, getting into position as Shavonne bobs her head and I walk out of the room to meet Sam in the living area.
SIXTY-SIX
JOLENE
The sirens are even louder now. The police are getting close.
“All done?” I ask Samuel.
“Yep.” Samuel picks Dominic’s gun up with the end of his shirt, wipes it off, and places it closer to the living room.
I glance at Dominic who is sprawled on the floor with blood on his shirt. His face is already swelling, and blood is spilling from his nose to his cheeks. For a split second, I feel like a traitor. Aren’t wives supposed to protect their spouses? To love them through thick and thin? To be there for them, through sickness and in health? Because I know for a fact Dominic is sick. He may not be officially diagnosed with a mental condition, but something is wrong with my husband. All his narcissistic ways, the abuse, the lies, and still going day to day as if he’s a saint? That can’t be the mind of a good person.
I do realize how this can play against us. Whoever represents Dominic could bring up his past, his mother’s diagnoses, and claim insanity for him. If it proves to be true that Dominic is mentally unstable and has been for years, they’ll slap him on the wrist when it comes to the charges. But, regardless, he’ll be put away in a psych facility and no one will believe a word he says because it’s ours against his, and that’s all we want. To me, it’s still a pretty fair punishment. A man who wanted to be nothing like his mother—to seem perfect and without a single flaw—will suffer in his own head because of his horrible actions. Not a day will pass where he doesn’t think about what all his cruel decisions led him to.
Dominic’s eyes flutter open as I’m staring at him, and I hold back a gasp. His eyelids twitch as he tries focusing on me. The sirens are wailing now, drowning out every creak and groan of the cabin. I drop to my knees next to him.
“W-why would you do this, Jo?” Dominic croaks.
I sigh, carrying my gaze across the cabin. This place . . . it’s the reason he’s the way that he is. He never felt safe here. Perhaps he keeps it as a form of his own strength—a symbol in his life to prove he can overcome anything. Maybe if his mother was different, or if she hadn’t killed herself, he would be a different person. Someone with more empathy and kindness. The thought of what he’s lost out on—a normal childhood, with a stronger parent—brings tears to my eyes. It wasn’t his fault, but at the end of the day we’re responsible for our own actions.
To be frank, I don’t think Dominic ever really had a chance. How do you go about life after suffering such horrors? After being compelled to write your mother’s suicide letter, knowing she was on the brink of death? I’m sure no one knows about that note but him and me. We’re all a little messed up. Every single human on this earth has endured a trauma or a tragedy that they want to heal from, but what happens when you don’t heal? I like to think people like Dominic are a product of that: unhealing.
“Because, Dominic,” I finally whisper. “You’ve hurt so many people—people who only wanted the best parts of you.” I work to swallow as blue and white flickering lights appear outside the cabin, along with the wailing of sirens. “But the truth—the bitter truth—is that I hate you. I hate you for stealing the last ten years of my life. I hate you for what you did to Brynn and Shavonne and for going so far as to try and murder them. And I hate you even more for always taking the coward’s way out. There is no love within you. I see that now. You can only love yourself, and if you’re not first, everyone else suffers. Someone like that doesn’t deserve to have it all.”