Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Jules is angry, and I get that. Saying it was a shock is obviously an understatement. I flick on the light and my eyes are instantly drawn to the bar. To a vice I desperately need to lean on while I process my lack of grace at what I did to her.
She was never meant to find out what happened. I was a different man then. If I’d known her at the time, I would have handled it differently. I would have ripped her away from that piece of shit and taken her for myself. In another life, perhaps it happened that way.
But that’s not our reality.
Picking up a glass from the rack on the edge of the bar, I remember the haunting look in her eyes; the glass clinks as the adrenaline in my blood begins to wane for the first time since seeing her face as she read the letter.
I don’t know how to fix this. Every other trouble Jules has had has been easy to remedy. This… I know it’s unforgivable, but what she wants isn’t an option for us. I can’t go back to what I once had and who I used to be.
I need her and she may not want to admit it right now, but she needs me. Deep down, she knows it’s true. This doesn’t change anything.
She just needs time and so do I. I’ll figure out a way to keep her and make her happy again. It’s not the first time I’ve destroyed her, I think as the bottom of the heavy glass hits the bar top.
I crack my neck to the side as I hear her cry out again, sharp profanity echoing down the stairway and hall. Her voice is raw and hoarse, and I know the regret plagues her.
A smirk lifts up my lips. She’s right, I must be sick. The thought that lingers is that she has to regret moving in with me. My house is on the edges of the city and in a secluded, remote location. If we were at her place, the neighbors would have heard everything, and the cops would have already been called. I’d be fucked.
I give a small grin as I twist off the cap to the whiskey and slowly pour it into the tumbler. No one can hear her but me while we’re in here.
I’m the only knight in shining armor she’s going to get.
I bring the glass to my lips and the smile vanishes, my eyes drifting to the lit fireplace. She turned it on earlier, claiming it brings a warmth to the darkness in the dining room.
Downing my whiskey and then raking my fingers through my hair, I let out a frustrated sigh over the sound of her screaming.
She’s going to be sore and angry, and the marks on her wrists will need time to fade, but she’ll survive. She’ll get over it.
Whoever wrote that note though, whoever tried to tear my sweetheart from me, that fucker won’t survive this. I grit my teeth as I slam the glass down and feel the burn of the liquor spread through my chest.
The thought prompts me to head to the entryway. The rug is crooked from when I dragged Jules up the stairs, and the lamp on the hall table is on its side, but at least it’s not broken. My keys and wallet are still on the floor from when she knocked them off the table in her frantic attempt to hold on to something, anything to keep her from being taken upstairs.
My eyes dart up to the wall behind the iron banister. A low hum of admonishment leaves me as I bend down to pick up the scattered items.
The dents and scrapes on the walls are going to be a bit more difficult to fix. Recalling the feel of her struggling against me stirs an unrecognizable emotion inside my gut. I close my eyes and picture how I held her tight against me, forcing her still and pushing her against the wall, trapping her. She never stopped fighting, though. I count every little mark. Her nails scratched against the drywall, desperate for something to save her. It’s evidence that’s not so easy to clean up.
I did what I had to do, I think although the justification sounds hollow in the back of my mind.
The keys jingle as I toss them onto the table, scooting it back into place and then I snatch up the crumpled piece of thick cream parchment.
The note that destroyed what I had.
I clear my throat, willing the images and memories to go away as my chest tightens with unbearable pain. I had her. I had my sweetheart and she loved me, I know she did.
The letter crinkles as I focus my eyes on it and turn my back to the staircase, resting my shoulder against the doorframe of the dining room and listening to the crackling of the fire.