Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35413 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
“You’re a waste of space,” my father berated me on the ride home. “All those years I wasted on you, for absolutely nothing. Do you have any idea what you just did in there? Do you, boy?”
He went off for the whole car ride home, insisting I was worthless and wishing I had never been born. My tongue was incapable of working, unable to scream the words, It’s okay, Pops. I wish I’d never been born too.
I often would think about how easy it would be to just be dead. No noise, no pressure, no anger, resentment or pain, simply quiet darkness. Death sounded like paradise to me.
That night, I stepped into the bathroom and stared at my reflection. Dark hair, gray eyes, a strong Cupid’s bow, high cheekbones, a defined jawline. I appeared as if I were some teen heartthrob, which was amusing, since my grueling music schedule never allowed me to date. I wondered how it would feel if I slashed up the sun-kissed skin and blood dripped down my cheeks. My face distorted and mangled, like my life.
The more I stared at the mirror, the heavier the constriction in my throat. I needed something to relieve the pressure, to make the hurt stop. I opened up the straight razor and sliced my wrist. But once I made one incision, it wasn’t enough. I needed more. The pain wasn’t going away. So I jabbed the blade back into my flesh. Stabbing at my wrist until I passed out on the floor.
“You tried to kill yourself?” Iggy asks, his voice a whisper.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I simply wanted to stop the pain.”
The veins in Iggy’s arms protrude as he fists the duvet on the bed.
My eyes shut. “If you want to leave, I understand.”
“Leave?” Iggy asks. “I don’t want to leave. I want to go back in time and beat your father’s head in until all that’s left of him is blood and guts. Imagine demoralizing your son so much, all you leave is a desire to die.”
“I didn’t want to die.”
“You can call it whatever you want, Marley, but you were drowning, and instead of helping you, your father held your head under the water. Why didn’t your mother help?”
“My mother was a dutiful wife. She believed her place was to sit quietly and obey all my father’s wishes. It’s why the first thing I did with our first paycheck was get Monica out of that house. There was no way I was going to leave her in toxic hell.”
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Did you have anyone?”
“Monica. I had her.”
“Why didn’t she do anything?” Iggy asks.
“She was fourteen. What exactly was she supposed to do?”
CHAPTER 14
Iggy
The emotions of disgust and rage are so thick I’m confident I can choke on them. I always knew I was lucky to have my parents, but until I joined Gutless Void, I didn’t realize how fortunate I truly was. Lars and Cain were really open about their parents and how they grew up. Their disdain for drugs and alcohol directly correlated to how substances had demolished their lives. Marley’s parents were more of a mystery. The only time he’d ever mentioned them was when he went back home for his father’s funeral five years ago. His mother now lives in Florida. The only member of his family I’d ever gotten to know was his sister Monica. For the last eight years, the two of them became orphans my mother took in like her own.
I should say something to Marley, but I’m not sure what words I can choose to utter from the vast and complicated thoughts rattling in my mind. “I know your father is dead, but would I be a bad person if I flew to Florida and killed your mother?”
“Yes,” Marley says. “She’s almost sixty, and I think her dementia is a sufficient form of punishment.”
Both Marley and I sit beside each other on the bed, and I wrap my arm around his shoulders. He doesn’t resist when I pull him toward me, holding him in the silence. “What can I do?”
Marley inhales deeply. “Understand that as much as I care for you and as much as I want to fuck you, I can’t give you more. I’m not capable. We can fuck, Iggy. Fucking is something I’m good at. Sex keeps the demons at bay and in that moment, I can give you all of it. The problem is the after. There isn’t enough capacity in me to give you the beyond. We need to remove feelings from the equation.”
“You think you can handle me fucking other people?” I ask.
Marley stares at the wall, his shoulders falling. “No.”
“Friends with benefits, but with exclusivity?”
My arm drops to my side as the bed shifts and Marley rises. “I don’t know what to fuckin’ do. The idea of you being with another person induces a rage I’ve never experienced before. And I know that isn’t fair.”