Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“Porsche, save this voicemail message. Don’t ever delete it. I love you. I love you completely. Your rose petals, and your thorns. I love your roots, and your leaves. I love you with purpose. I love you with patience. I love you with promise. Just as you’ve done for me. We have something most only dream of. You are one in a billion. I was lucky enough to experience you for a moment in time. You were my friend. My lover. My soulmate. For that, I am eternally grateful. What we had was pure. It was true love. No matter what happens, know that I love you more than my own life…I’m sorry.”
Grabbing the bat that rested near the refrigerator, he stormed to his basement door, unlocked it, and raced like a cougar down the uneven steps—running on nothing but indignation and pure adrenaline. The sounds of the radio were no match for the strength of his breaths. He walked to the far recesses of the basement, an area swallowed by shadows and an oddly low ceiling where the roof sloped, and pulled a long chain. A concrete door opened onto a small, dark room.
Another radio was on in there, too—this one much louder, but the sound couldn’t escape the soundproof walls. The reverberations of The Knocks’ ‘Slow Song,’ with Dragonette played from the scratchy speakers. A red glow filled the stagnant air from the heating lamp. The stench of body odor, piss, and vomit assailed him as he flipped a switch. The bright white light revealed two buckets, a couple folded towels, a half-eaten plate of vegetables and a stale sandwich, as well as a cot with a thin mattress, soiled with sweat stains.
He approached the radio and turned the station to a classical music one. He lowered his gaze, enjoying it for a few moments…
Simple moments. Quiet moments.
But then his seconds of serenity were abruptly snatched from him when he heard the sway of chains.
“Well, today is the fucking day!” he roared.
He marched across the small room and set his gaze on the thin man in shackles against the wall. His arms and legs were outstretched along the concrete bricks, each appendage shackled. The hostage man’s unkempt beard was straggly and grown out, blood dripping from his mouth as he tried to speak. Each time he parted his lips, red droplets fell onto a small dragon tattoo along his left pectoral.
The restraints shook and a crooked groan escaped the dry and cracked lips of the emaciated man with hooded blue eyes, and then the bastard whimpered.
“Just… let me… go…” he managed to say. But his eyes said so much more.
“Let you go? LET YOU GO?!” Nikolai raised the bat high over his head, and his prisoner’s weary eyes widened as they traced his movements. The son of a bitch blinked several times, then angst took over his expression—his tiny shred of hope now dead and gone. He knew his future… and it promised to be painful.
“Noooooo!”
BOOM! The bat came crashing down.
Again.
And again.
And again…
Nikolai kept swinging, hitting the beast over and over. A demon. A weakling. A horrible fiend not fit to walk the earth.
Several minutes later, he took a deep breath and calmly walked out of the concrete room, leaving the door open for the first time in a long time. The blood had splattered all over his body, and a sense of numbness took over.
With slow, heavy steps, he trudged back across the basement, past his workshop, and up the staircase, dragging the bloody bat behind him. Once in the kitchen, he stood there. Dying inside. He picked up his cellphone, blood dripping from his fingers, and noticed a missed call from a potential customer. Ignoring it, he dialed and brought the phone to his face.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“There’s been a crime committed at 214 Danforth Street. Send police.”
“What type of crime, sir? Is anyone hurt?”
“Hurry.”
With that, he hung up the phone and sat down.
Waiting…
I said to myself, all good things come to an end. I reminded myself of that after I fell in love with Porsche. I meant those words. Love is temporary. I knew that going in. Not because any of us who ever experience love want it to be over, but because the world is too evil to allow it to live forever. Goodness comes with a price…
I’ve lost a good woman. A woman I’ve loved more than any other woman in my entire life, and now… I’ve lost all that I’ve worked so hard for, too. My good business. My good home. My good friends. My good sanity.
I’ve stood in the middle for so long, trying to keep the walls from caving in. I’ve stood in the gap… now the walls are crushing me. The truth is coming out and I can’t hold on a second longer. I was the black sheep, trying to not go over the cliff. I woke up. I didn’t follow the shepherd.