Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
She wraps her hands around the nape of my neck, pulling me toward her, and all I want to do is drown in Katelyn Shaw. Because we were born for one another. She is mine, and I am hers. No matter how many times we shatter one another’s hearts, we are perpetually connected, she and I. Bound to each other for eternity. Separate, we spiral into our own versions of living hell.
Begrudgingly, I pull away from her first, my mouth still close to hers, as if she’s the one that gives me life, providing the air in my lungs.
“Everything I’ve ever done was for you, Katelyn. When I open my eyes and rise, it’s because of you. When I close them at night, even my dreams flood with visions of you. I can’t escape you, even if I wanted to.”
My fingers dig into her arms, and she winces. I know I’m hurting her, but it’s nothing compared to the pain she’s inflicted on my life. I scan the beach, remembering our special place, our days of innocent bliss, peace and freedom taken for granted. What we presumed to be a given—the two of us united—would one day come crashing down. I now know love isn’t an indulgence to be enjoyed, it’s a rare gift we have to fight for.
My eyes are drawn to Eddie, rising from the dunes like a ghost from our past. I push on Kat’s arms, and the urge to crush her bones into dust ignites briefly under my hands.
“You chose this,” I gesture to this cursed land, Wainscott Hollow, Eddie Lind, the dark ocean, and the low-hanging silver moon, “Over us.
“Heath, you’re hurting me,” she cries.
“You’ve damned us, Katelyn. You’ve damned us straight to hell. Because we will never be okay apart. You chose wrong and condemned us to a lifetime of hurt and want.”
I get up and walk away, abandoning the woman I love like I did years ago. But no matter how hard I try to forget this place and my past, I can’t because Katelyn Shaw is so deeply planted in my soul that she runs through my very bloodstream.
Chapter 11
Katelyn
Violence is something I’ve lived with in one form or another my entire life. From the stern hand of my father’s belt connecting to my brothers’ backs, to Henry’s volatility and sick nature, all the way to Eddie’s humiliation and torture. All I’ve ever known is violence, and even my solace in the ocean vanished when its angry waves consumed my mother. The only peace I ever had was the soft caress of Heath’s hand. I never got any real love or affection from my dad or Henry. Heath’s presence in my life gave me something to live for, a profound peace and adoration that was devoid of any brutality. But last night proved to me that even he’s become contaminated, riddled with the need for destruction.
I place concealer on my bruised and battered skin with the practiced hand of an expert. Marks doled out on the supposed premise of love. But true love doesn’t bruise. The mark it leaves isn’t visible. It’s a tattoo on the soul, a permanent imprint on the heart.
Love that borders the edge of madness. Bruises landed not from one man but two. Eddie’s blows are direct like missiles with perfect aim that I accept as my penitence, while Heath’s creep up like a welcome soft rain that then hurls itself into a tornado.
I cannot believe he’s returned, and that the years have changed him so much. He touches me in violence now, too, and in my heart, I feel like I deserve his cruelty for pushing him away. The only problem is that when Heath touches me, even in violence, I welcome it like a baptism to wash away my sins.
For five years I slept every night with his ghost beside me, comforted myself with ephemeral memories of him, pretended he was there with me, always. Seeing him again last night was like being doused in ice water. I am the one to blame for his absence, and perhaps if I didn’t live in the sick, twisted maze that is Wainscott Hollow, we would have had a chance. It would be him I was married to now and I wouldn’t be going through my third stick of concealer in a few months.
My husband dresses for work and I watch him in the mirror, gauging his mood.
“On my way to the city today, I’m stopping by the precinct to report your little charity case for assault,” Eddie spits as he straightens his tie. “I’m sure the police department will give him a hero’s welcome on his return to Long Island Sound.”
I’ve taken Eddie’s abuse for years. I tolerated it because a part of me was indebted to him for saving me from my fucked-up situation. I could never give him what he wanted, a way to my heart, so I sacrificed my body instead, allowing him to do what he wanted to satiate his dark needs.