Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
He looked down at his chest, saw the scars from his dad’s belt buckle litter his side, and when he turned around and looked at his back he saw the scars that crisscrossed his flesh. He’d gotten so many tattoos over the years, trying to hide them, cover up his shame and abuse, but all it did was seem to amplify them.
Lifting his arm and staring at his forearm, he ran a hand over his scars that lined his skin.
They were in the shape of circles, thick shaped circles from his father’s cigars that had memories washing through him. Since he’d grown into the man he was, he’d worked out, striving to keep his mind off of his memories, and was now strong and big, able to defend himself.
He’d never be anyone’s punching bag, and never allow anyone to hurt him again. Maybe that was why he fought on occasion, searched out men to hit and beat, to take a punch and leave him bruised and battered.
He needed that pain sometimes, needed that body to hit and fight back to ease the agony he felt inside. It was a never-ending battle inside of him, one that was consuming at times, painful and angering. He had a lot of pain and rage inside, emotions that needed out or they would kill him.
Ace dropped the towel and put on his boxers and his shirt. He headed out of the bathroom, shut the light off so darkness washed through the room, and went to lie beside the woman.
Fuck, he didn’t even know her name, or if he did he didn’t remember it. But it didn’t matter, because this was the only time he’d spend with her, then it was on to his next fight, his next random sexual encounter, and trying to block out everything else. He felt disgusted with himself, hated himself every day.
Looking in the mirror showed the reflection of a man that was strong and powerful on the outside, but inside was battered and broken. Hell, the one woman in his life that gave a shit about him, that really cared for him, saw him as a friend, a destroyed friend.
He loved Lauren, had for years, but she was too fucking good for him, and so he’d pushed his emotions for her as far back as he could and didn’t allow the pure thought of her to be tainted by everything he was. Closing his eyes and scrubbing a hand over his face, he breathed out and focused on the pain he felt.
It was safer that way, smarter to let it consume him when he lay here in the dark and his hopes crept up.
15
Toby stared at the way his mother shuffled around in her house shoes, her robe hanging off one of her shoulders, and her hair in a messy black and grey bun.
“Honey, you ready for some more coffee?”
He set down his cup and shook his head even though her back was to him. “I’m good, thanks, Mom.”
It was already two weeks after his father had died, and they were still going through his financial paperwork. Although his mom didn’t show her sadness in front of him anymore, there were times he heard her softly crying in her room at night.
He wanted to go to her and say that he was here, he wasn’t going anywhere, and that he hated that she hurt so badly. She turned around and smiled, the dark circles under her eyes telling him of her sleepless nights. “I am so glad you’re here, and so happy you were able to see Ace again.”
He had seen Ace a couple more times before he had to head back to Ohio for his work, but they wouldn’t lose contact this time. He thought of Ace as a brother, even still after all these years. “Mom, come here and sit down.”
His mother moved toward him, pulled out the chair in front of him, and when she was in the seat, he reached out and took her hand.
“You look so serious, Toby.” His mother smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, and Toby knew that his mom had to know what he was going to say. It wasn’t like they hadn’t spoken about the abuse dealt by his father after the fact, but his mom had been blinded by the fact she was in this toxic relationship.
“Mom, come live with me in Silver Springs. He’s not here anymore, and can’t hurt you for trying to go against him.”
She looked down, and the sound of her breathing filled the small kitchen. “This is my home, Toby.”
He didn’t speak for several minutes. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. He’s gone, and he won’t hurt you again.”
She shook her head and smiled sadly. “I know your father was cold and harsh, Toby, but he was my husband. This is my home, my life is here now. I can’t leave, won’t. Your dad died here, was my provider—”