Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
I take a deep breath and relive the morning that is now burned in my memory. “I went home, and the minute I put the key in the lock, I knew something was off,” I say, and he puts up his hand.
“And you went in anyway?” he asks, his voice tight. I nod at him, and he puts his head back and looks at the ceiling.
“Well, when the door opened, I saw it right away,” I say, his hands going into fists. “The food was all over the floor. The drawers were pulled out and dumped on the floor. The plates smashed all around the room as if someone just tossed them like Frisbees.” I try to get it all out once and for all. “The bedroom was the worst.” I take a deep breath. “They tossed everything on the floor and cut through the mattress.”
“Motherfucker,” he hisses out and charges to me, grabbing me by my hand and pulling me to his bedroom, then closing the door behind us. He walks to the bed and sits down and pulls me down next to him, but my leg starts to shake, and I have to get up and walk, so I pace in front of him. “What did the police say?”
“The police?” I laugh bitterly. “The last time this happened, I called and all they did was take a report. They did nothing,” I say, recalling when it happened the first time. The minute I mentioned Andrew and that he was on drugs, it was like I was wasting their time. They took the report because that is their job, but I doubt they did anything else with it. “I don’t know what they were looking for, but there was nothing there for them,” I start to say. “The futon was also slashed to the point where there is no way it can be salvaged, and the wooden frame looks like someone kicked in every single slat. They even put holes in the walls, and now I’m going to have to patch them up before the landlord sees it and evicts me for good this time.” I walk back and forth. “The bathroom was the only thing not touched.”
“Are you done?” he asks, and I look at him.
“What?” I whisper.
“You could have been home last night,” he says, his voice almost in a whisper, but anger is clearly radiating off him. “You could have been in the middle of that, you and Dylan, and it might have had a different outcome.”
“I mean,” I say, “I didn’t think of that.”
“Of course you didn’t,” he says, and my head snaps back.
“What does that mean?” I say.
“It means that you could have been there. It means that the person could have come inside the house and beat and raped you while Dylan watched,” he says, his voice trembling. “I don’t want you to go back there. I don’t want you in that place.”
“Justin,” I say. Walking to him, I step in the middle of his legs and he wraps his hands around my legs. “I would never put myself in that position.”
“They came into your house. Do you think they knocked before coming in?” he says, and my hands come up to hold his face in my hands.
“I can’t just pick up and leave,” I tell him as much as I would love to.
“You can get another place,” he says, and I smile at him. I smile for the first time today. “A place where Andrew doesn’t know where you’re at.” He blinks. “A place where you can have peace of mind and not worry about someone coming to hurt you or get information from you because of Andrew.”
“I just …” I start and then decide to bare my soul to him. “I would love nothing more. If I ever get a chance to move, I would do it in a heartbeat. I would leave this crappy fucking town behind me and never look back.”
“Will you let me help you?” he asks. “I mean, not leave this crappy fucking town because I really want you here with me.” He blinks away the tears. “Let me help you find someplace that is safe for you and for Dylan.”
“Justin, I can’t let you do that,” I say. “I can’t let you just …”
“Let me be the one who protects you for once.” His hands rub the backs of my legs. “Let me be the one who holds your hand for once.”
“You really are that perfect person,” I say, leaning down to kiss his lips.
“Not even close,” he whispers, “but with you, I want to be as perfect as I can be.”
“Where is everybody?” We hear Dylan yell. “Mom,” he calls my name. “Justin.”
“In here, buddy,” Justin says, and the door opens, and he stands there looking at us.