Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
He looks down at his hands, slowly flexing and relaxing them. The rhythm is almost hypnotic, so much so that I can’t tear my eyes from them. Powerful hands that know how to touch me and awaken things in me I didn’t know existed. “Some days, you could walk down the street and see them sitting out on their porches or front steps. No jobs. Nothing to do but bitch and hate and drink.”
“That night, he was supposed to be out on a fishing trip with some of his buddies,” he continues. “You have no idea what a relief that was. It was like a holiday. He would be out of the house for three, maybe four days. My mom said she’d make dinner the first night, and I asked if Becky could come over and eat with us. She could almost never come over. I didn’t want her around him.” His jaw tightens, and my heart aches. He never had a chance to be a kid, did he?
“We were having dinner, and it was really nice. Mom seemed happy, and she and Becky always got along really well — everybody sort of knew everybody around here, you know? She liked Becky. Said she had a good head on her shoulders. And I…” He snickers, looking down at his hands. “I was so fucking happy. That was the last happy time I ever had in this house.”
As I watch, his fists tighten. “And then he came home. Out of nowhere, the front door opened. I almost puked all over the table. It was like all the air got sucked out of the room. Dread. Just absolute, crushing dread.” My throat is closing up, and my heart is beating faster because I know that feeling. Maybe not as well as he does, but there were plenty of times – especially in Europe — I felt the same way. Kristoff would go out with some of the people he met, and it was like a weight had been lifted. Then he would come back, and it would settle on me again.
“Right away, he was pissed. Apparently, he forgot his fishing pole and had to drive home to get it, and I guess he was missing out on some good drinking time with his pals. And for some reason, seeing Becky sitting at the table… Mom had even bought flowers and put them out. She was that happy to have a guest. ‘What is this, a party? Are you having a party while I’m not around?’” It’s incredible the way his voice changes, deepening into a growl that makes my body erupt in goosebumps.
“And he stomped across the living room, and I knew I had to do something. I stood up and tried to block them from him. I told him to go get his fishing pole and get back to the lake. That we were just having dinner. He shoved me out of the way. Becky jumped up; she was terrified. And I felt so damn guilty and useless because I brought her into this. And I was ashamed, too.”
There’s no emotion in his voice now. It’s flat, lifeless, like he wants to get through this without feeling the memories. “She tried to come to me, to comfort me. Or maybe she just wanted to feel safer. He was a strong guy, and she might’ve weighed a hundred pounds. It was like swatting a fly–she hit the counter, then hit the floor.”
I’m on the edge of my seat while he pauses to take a ragged breath. “Becky screamed. Mom screamed. Everything went red. I picked up a knife that was on the table. Mom screamed again. ‘Don’t. Romero, don’t.’ That was all that stopped me. I could actually see myself sinking it into his chest, as clear as anything. He was laughing and daring me—I could smell the beer on his breath and knew he was drunk. Told myself it might be my only chance to set us all free. But then I heard Becky crying and moaning on the floor.”
I can hardly breathe as Romero continues.
“There was blood soaking through her jeans.”
“Oh, my God,” I whisper. I don’t even know if he hears me. He’s so far away.
“She never told me she was pregnant. I guess she would have, but she hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Mom was hysterical, and so was I. Somehow, I drove her car to the hospital. I don’t remember any of it. I was half out of my mind, I swear. She was pregnant with my baby, and he killed it. He didn’t even seem sorry when I was helping her out the front door. But I would never expect that from him, anyway. He never did like to take responsibility for the things he did. Anyway, her parents got there before long, and they pretty much told me to get the hell out and never see her again. It’s bad enough I got her pregnant, but now she was in the emergency room because of me. I never even got the chance to tell them I never laid a hand on her, but I guess it didn’t matter. It was still my fault. I walked to O’Neals, and for some reason, it seemed like a good idea to go inside. So I did. I went in, and I proceeded to get drunk off my ass. It didn’t matter that I was only sixteen – I didn’t care. And they knew who my old man was. Guess they figured it ran in the family. He had already put plenty of money in their pockets. And then I staggered back to the house. You can’t understand how broken I was.”