Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
What the actual hell am I going to do with a child? I'm not exactly the fatherly type. I wasn't raised with a man that was the fatherly type. I loved my dad, but he didn't teach me how to throw a ball, how to ask girls out, hell, he didn't even come to my high school graduation. My dad taught me how to be a criminal. How to kill someone and get away with it. He taught me to fight when you don't get what you want; he taught me to go for blood. I have no idea what a normal life is like, so how the hell can I teach someone how to live one? I've planned things, made adjustments so I can give Tor something close to what I deem as normal, but a kid was not in those plans, at all. Ever.
I finish my first glass, and the bartender pours my second. I tip this one up and down it in three gulps, slamming the empty glass back down on the worn counter. "Another!" I demand as I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth. She places a new drink in front of me, and I continue drinking. My head swims, the tension in my shoulders melting away with each long sip. A kid! I'm fucking pissed that she kept this from me, or maybe, I'm hurt. I don't know, I just know I don't like it. I hold her captive, she falls in love with me, I knock her the fuck up... Jesus, this is some fucked up shit. Fucked up. This kid doesn't have a damn chance. I wipe my hand over my brow and shake my head before polishing off my third glass of cheap-ass whiskey. Things are just going to have to change. After Joe, everything is going to fucking change. She needs to take care of herself. She can't ignore this, and neither can I.
I sit at the bar for hours, attempting to think everything through, but all the whiskey is doing is making it harder for me to rationalize it all. I leave the bar, slowly driving up the winding, narrow mountain road. My phone rings and vibrates across the center console. Glancing down, I see David's name blinking on the screen.
"Hey!"
"So, I got Stan's phone bugged for you..."
"Ria."
It's dark and I can't see anything, but I know that smell. Mildew mixed with the faint scent of blood. I'm on my hands and knees, desperately trying to find my bearings. My fingers run over the smooth stone floor, as familiar to me as my own skin. My prison, my own personal hell.
"Ria. Where are you?" Caleb, that's Caleb's voice.
"I'm here." A small cry falls from my lips.
I hear his whispered footsteps, and then a gentle hand on my arm. He pulls me to my feet. I can feel the heat from his body, as though he were a furnace in the dead of winter. He takes my hand and pulls me. "Follow me."
I follow him blindly. I would follow him anywhere. I keep walking until a soft light starts to surround us. It's like the sun slowly rising, painting everything in shades of grey. I study Caleb's face, and a tear tracks down my cheek.
"I miss you," I tell him.
That brilliant smile of his makes its way across his face, but he says nothing. He leans forward and presses his lips into my forehead. He steps back, and I meet his eyes. A loud bang reverberates off the walls, disrupting the silence and making my ears ring. A tiny dot appears between his eyes. The smile disappears from his face as the circle spreads outward becoming a small red patch. Blood pours down his face, running off his chin and soaking through his shirt. I scream and reach for him. My fingers clench at his shirt, and he sinks to his knees, his eyes wide.
"Caleb!" I shout, my vocal chords straining with the effort.
I feel firm hands on my shoulders pulling me backwards, away from Caleb. All I can do is scream his name.
I'm torn from the dream screaming and gasping for breath as sweat slicks my entire body. I sit up holding my chest against the festering pain that feels like it's ripping my chest wide open. All I can see is Caleb's face, and a broken sob tears from my throat in response. God, I miss him.
"Tor," Jude's low voice rumbles in my ear. He leans over me, sweeping his finger along my hairline. "It's okay. I'm sorry." He touches his lips lightly to my forehead and the scent of him, heavily laced with whiskey, wraps around me.
I can't talk. It hurts too much. I've never had this dream. My nightmares usually feature Joe, but this one. It's bittersweet because I saw Caleb, but then I had to watch him die all over again. Tears of sheer anguish stream down my face.