Total pages in book: 165
Estimated words: 159976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 800(@200wpm)___ 640(@250wpm)___ 533(@300wpm)
I haven’t eaten in two days. I can’t stop thinking about her. If she called right now, I would rush to her wherever she was for just a chance at one more night.
God, I miss her. Why can’t she be more patient? Why can’t she give me that? Why does anyone need to know? How was she so willing to give me up over me just wanting her to myself for a while longer? Was it too much to ask not to be rushed?
Just be understanding. Just love me. I loved her so good. It should’ve been enough.
Forgetting my bag in my car, I trudge through my front door, not noticing anyone or any sound as I traipse up the stairs with a weight almost too heavy to carry on my shoulders. I enter my room, close the door, and head over to the bed. I collapse and roll, pulling the comforter over me as I bury my head inside.
I’ll get over it. First loves never last anyway. I knew it would hurt when it eventually happened.
It won’t always feel like this.
But the idea of Liv getting over me makes the tears stream harder and faster. I hate this feeling in my stomach. I hate the thoughts whirling in my head like a tornado of someone else making love to her and dancing for her and waking up to her.
I hate it so much my mind starts to tilt, and I’m angry. Even though I broke up with her, and this is all my fault, I’m angry with her so much that I want to fucking make sure no one compares to me. That she’s miserable forever, unable to forget me. No one else will be able to make her happy. No one will feel like me. She should’ve waited for me.
I don’t know when I fall asleep, but when I wake up, the sunlight streaming through my windows is gone, and the room is dark. I blink my eyes, my head still aching, but I register voices. The ones that woke me up.
“Get out, then!” my mom yells. “Get out! Run to her.”
“It’s not about her!”
I sit up, my eyelids heavy and tears dried on my face as I listen from inside my room.
“I’m not even in love with her,” my dad says. “Goddammit, Regina!”
“Just leave!” Footfalls hit the stairs. “All you care about is yourself. You’re always gone anyway.”
“And you’re here?” he retorts. “Is that what you think? I can’t do this anymore! I’ll be back for the rest of my stuff.”
Something breaks, a door slams, and I hear a car start.
I throw off the covers, bolting from the room. “Dad…” I pull open my door and race down the stairs, seeing my mother standing in the foyer as headlights skim from one window to the other outside.
I run to the door, open it, and leap out into the driveway as his taillights speed farther and farther away.
“Dad!” I cry.
No! I hurry to my car, reach inside, and pull my phone out of my school bag, dialing his number.
“Baby, no!” Mom calls out.
But I shake my head, all the rage and despair and heartache pooling into a fucking boiler inside my gut, and I can’t stop myself.
He left me. He didn’t talk to me or say goodbye or…
I head back into the house, walking and not even paying attention to where I’m going, only that my mom stumbles after me in tears.
I hear the line pick up, and I’m speaking before he says a word. “Don’t come back.”
“Clay…” he whispers, and I can hear the tears in his throat. “Baby, I…”
“Clay, baby,” I mock. “I…uh, uh, uh…God, enough!” I roar. “Just say you found a new life, and you don’t want us anymore! Just have a fucking backbone! I hate you! Say it, so we can finally be free of you! Say you don’t want us anymore!”
My eyes burn so hard I can barely keep them open, but I feel good for a hot minute, having someone to take this out on.
“Listen to me,” he says.
But I don’t. “Don’t come back,” I grit out. “We were always this weak, weren’t we?” I head up the stairs. “Without him, we’re nothing, and pretty soon, it will be as if he never existed!” I rip Henry’s portrait off the wall in the hallway, my mother sobbing behind me. “As if we never were a family!”
I cry so hard, but I can’t stop myself. I drop the phone, charging down the hallway and pulling all of our pictures off the wall, the glass in the frames crashing onto the floor.
“Clay, stop!” my mom begs.
“It was always a house of cards!” I hiss. “Because we’re weak! We were always weak!”
I was always weak, and now I’ve lost everything. I wanted to be perfect and for what? For this?