Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Tears refill my eyes and trickle down my cheeks. I brush them away with my wrist.
“He was a police officer. People in this town respected him. I knew that, if I did say something … no one would believe me. I was … trapped.
“It was a Sunday. It was always a fucking Sunday. She was at her book club. I was alone at home with him. He called me into the kitchen. I knew what was going to happen. What always happened when she wasn’t there.” He rubs his hands over his face, pushing his fingers up and through his hair.
“He left his gun out on the kitchen counter. He never did that. And I honestly don’t know what made me pick up the gun that day. But I did. I pointed it at him. He laughed in my face. Then, he got mad. He came at me, and then I shot him. And I kept pulling the trigger until the gun was empty. I don’t know how much time passed … it seemed like none at all, and then Mama was home, and she saw what I’d done. She made me tell her what had happened. So, I did. I told her the ugly truth. She cried. Then, she picked up the phone and called the police. While we waited for them to come, she told me to agree with everything that she said. That it was her who had killed him. They’d fought. He’d attacked her, and she’d grabbed his gun and shot him in self-defense. I didn’t want to lie. I didn’t want her to go to prison.”
His eyes, red with emotion, flick to mine, telling me without words that he needs me to believe that. If not anything else, he needs me to believe that.
“She died in that place, and it was because of me.”
His head lowers. I scoot closer to him and grab hold of his hand.
“No. She was your mom, and she was protecting you in the only way she could because she loved you, River. Nothing that happened on that day or in the time leading up to it was your fault.”
I squeeze his hand, and he lifts his eyes to mine. They’re wet with tears, and my heart squeezes painfully.
“You were a child, River. A little boy.”
“I should have said something. Told the truth. But I didn’t. I did as she’d told me, and I stayed quiet. I never told the truth, and she went into that hellhole and never came out.”
“And what good would have come of it if you had told the truth?”
“She would be here … and I wouldn’t.”
“Don’t talk like that,” I say sharply.
I’m frustrated because he can’t see how amazing he is. I don’t think I fully saw it until now.
“I’m not good, Carrie.” He stares down at his hands that are stretched out on his thighs. “There’s a darkness inside of me.”
“No. There’s a survivor inside of you, doing what he needs to. You’re a good person, River. In here, where it counts.” I press my hand to his chest, over his heart. “You can tell me what you want, but I know what I see. And I see a good man.”
“I enjoy it, Red. Hurting them.” He turns dark eyes up to mine. “You need to know that about me. Know who I really am.”
I swallow down.
I move my hand down from his chest to his forearm and give it a squeeze. I don’t want to stop touching him in case he thinks it’s because I believe what he’s saying. That I think he’s bad.
It’s very important that he realizes that I don’t. And that I’m not afraid of him.
“And I won’t lie and say that what you do … how you … deal with these sickos doesn’t freak me out a bit because it does. But I didn’t live your life. Who’s to say I wouldn’t feel the same if I were you? Trust me; there were nights when I would lie in bed and dream about killing Neil, my ex,” I explain, realizing that’s the first time I’ve told River his name. “It would help me get through the really bad days.”
“But that’s the difference between you and me. I would’ve killed him.” He fixes his eyes on mine. “I want to kill him for hurting you. I got satisfaction tonight when I hurt that sick fuck. I like knowing that I’ve meted out some form of punishment to them … let them know just an iota of the pain they brought about to an innocent child. That does not make me a good man.”
The way he says it, so calm and cold, it’s like he wants me to be afraid of him.
He wants to push me away. He wants me to tell him to leave.