Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 65809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 263(@250wpm)___ 219(@300wpm)
Maybe I’ll try and send them again once the others stop getting returned. I don’t know what’s happening, but I refuse to stop writing. I’ll send one every day, knowing that it’s going to come back to me, because I won’t quit on him. Ever. He’ll never doubt that I wasn’t in this for the long haul and that he isn’t in this fight alone. I knew what it felt like to be alone and I never wanted him to feel that way.
I pick up the letter I wrote today and unlock the front door. I carry it out to the mailbox and put up the flag, but before I go inside I glance over at Mrs. Honey’s house. She’s staying with her son for a few days, and seeing the lights off at her house makes me feel lonelier than normal.
I go to walk back inside but freeze when I see a man standing up against a black SUV two houses down. He’s looking right at me and he doesn’t turn away when I notice him. He’s openly staring at me and he doesn’t care that I’ve caught him. This is the third time today I thought I saw the same vehicle and now this guy.
I take a deep breath and try to get my heart rate under control. I’m not letting someone intimidate me. I turn to face him and begin to approach him. He stands a little taller and he looks shocked that I’m going to address him.
“Is there something I can help you with?” I ask, my tone brisk and direct.
“No.” He responds just as curtly.
“Well, I suggest you move along or do whatever it is you’re here to do before I call the cops.”
I square my shoulders and narrow my eyes. I won’t be backed into a corner and intimidated by a man ever again.
“I’m just standing here.” I see his jaw tick and he’s irritated by me confronting him.
“Then you can stand there when the cops get here.” I walk back into my house and lock the door. I set the alarm and then walk over to the window and I peek out. I look up and down the street and see he’s gone and I feel relieved.
I wonder if I should call Mike and tell him about the man. When my head starts to ache I know what I really need and it’s a long soak in the master bathroom swimming pool. It’s actually just a tub, but it could be a pool by how big the thing is. Maybe if I get in some hot water I can calm down and figure out what I need to do next. All I really want to do is fall to the ground and cry, but I know I’ll have to pick myself up again and I don’t have the energy. I long for a day when I can fall and someone will be there to catch me. I want that person to be Rocco.
I clean up the dinner I made for myself then go upstairs. I pause for a moment to look around the place I call home. Over the past few weeks I’ve made it a touch more mine, but something is still missing. My heart screams that it’s Rocco and I know nothing will ever be home until I can be with him.
As I take the stairs I look at the wall and think about how it would be lined with pictures of the family I could have with him. The whole house would be filled with pictures, which is so unlike the one I grew up in.
These fantasies take hold in my heart and I wonder if I’m only making this harder on myself. All these dreams of what our life could be like together with a man who told me not to come back to see him. Am I completely delusional? Maybe he had some kind of realization that we'd never work. He’s always trying to talk me out of being with him. Maybe this is his way of doing what he thinks is best for me. I wish he would fight for us too, but if I have to do it alone I will.
After I’ve run the water, I soak in the bath and debate if I should go back to see him after he told me not to. He could refuse to come out of his cell, but I’m sure that if he knew I was there he would show up.
I close my eyes for a moment and fantasize about what would happen. This time there are no guards or anyone else to watch over us. I picture him stripping me naked and bending me over the cold metal table. I imagine his big rough hand slapping my ass for going against his orders. My body heats at the idea, and I moan as I slip my hand between my legs.