My mother wasshot in the head at close range. We didn’t have an open-casket funeral for her. My father took his own life two weeks later. We didn’t have an open-casket funeral for him either. Braxton Ames confessed to murdering my mom, but when he decided he couldn’t handle prison anymore, he fabricated some story about being coerced into confessing to a crime he didn’t commit. He knew the evidence against him was weak to begin with so I had no doubt that when the judge granted a retrial, he would go free.
It’s not right. It’s not fair. A man cannot take away my whole life and then walk. I cannot live knowing that he is enjoying freedom while my parents reside six feet under. Everyone has a calling in life. This is mine. Seeking revenge—justice—for the death of my parents is my calling.
But …
The woman before me could quite possibly kill me before I get the chance to avenge my parents’ deaths. Loving her hurts… Some days I swear it hurts worse than the loss of my parents. Today is one of those days. I’ve said the unimaginable and done the unforgivable. And now I’m the one with the knife lodged into my heart. With every look she twists it a little deeper.
Every time she refuses to eat.
Every time she refuses to drink.
Every time she refuses my touch.
Every word. God… the words. She’s obliterated me with words.
It’s not just the words; it’s how she says them. Her voice, the vacant look in her eyes. It’s that she means them. I can’t find an ounce of life in her expression.
“Drink.” I lift her head and tip the glass of water to her mouth. She doesn’t even blink. She also doesn’t fight me. I keep tipping the glass until she drinks the last drop of water.
Show me some fucking life.
She hasn’t been here that long. The woman before me is not suffering from starvation or dehydration. She just fell in love with the wrong guy. It’s true—I am worse than the cancer.
“I’m leaving. You’re not tied up. Your purse is over there on the floor. Your car keys are in it. The guns are not in your trunk anymore.”
Please leave.
Save yourself.
Hate me. I need you to hate me so that you can let me go.
Then go …
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
My name is Scarlet Stone and kids make fun of my name. I don’t understand what’s wrong with my name.
Scarlet
Theo leaves. Icollapse onto the mattress and close my eyes. When all the life inside is gone, there is nowhere to go except in dreams. What happens when dreams die? What happens when the mind can’t find any more stories? What happens when thoughts die before they ever truly form?
Time passes. Minutes? Hours? My mind can’t make sense of it. I stopped counting: minutes, seconds,breaths.
“Goddammit! Why are you still here?” Theo is so mad at me. Why is he mad at me? I love him. I’m his song.
“If I find you passed out, when I find you passed out, I’m not calling for an ambulance. If you want to kill yourself, a gun would be a helluva lot easier.”
“You have to leave! Open your eyes.” Pain. There’s so much pain to that voice. I can hear it, but I can’t feel it. I can’t feel anything. I like not feeling anything.
Fuck you, cancer.
I pull the trigger.
Nothing.
“Itake your life.Youdon’t get the fucking choice. Do you understand?”
Calloused hands grip my face. I fight the heavy weight, the bright light, and blink open my eyes.
