Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
The silence of the night is almost deafening. I watch her short blond hair move side to side as she stands in front. I can’t help myself, nor do I fucking care. “What the fuck are you doing here?” The harshness of my voice is tamer than what I feel inside me. The hatred I have for this woman feeds my soul. I hate the world. I hate the whole fucking world for the pain I walk with every single day. But I don’t hate anyone as much as I hate Autumn.
Her body looks like it’s shaking, like she’s outside in a snowstorm without a jacket. “Hello, Charlie,” she says softly.
“I asked you a question,” I growl out, ignoring she was trying to be polite at the same time watching the tears run down her face, tears she has no right having. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“My father is sick.” Her voice comes out broken. “I won’t be here long.” I watch her body shake even more, her arms wrapping around her stomach. She’s changed in the last six years since I’ve last seen her; she looks like she’s skin and bones.
Her face is ghostly. “You come home, and the first fucking place you come to is here?” I say in disgust.
“I shouldn’t have.” She shakes her head, her hand coming up to wipe away the tears streaming down her face.
“Yeah, you’re right. You shouldn’t have,” I snap at her. “Let’s hope this is the last fucking time I see you.” I don’t stand here long enough to see her reaction. Instead, I turn and walk back into the darkness, past the tree where she died, and toward the path that after eight years I could find with my eyes closed.
I hear a car door close in the distance and know it’s her. It has to be since it’s the middle of the night. The sound of a car driving by makes me turn to the side as I see her. It takes me forty-five minutes to walk back to my house. Coming out of the dense forest into the clearing, I walk past the barn and straight to the house I moved into four years ago. When we bought the property, it came with a main house, but it was falling apart. So my parents had it renovated slowly, and when it was done, they came down and helped me move in here.
My parents were beside themselves watching me drown in the house I shared with Jennifer. I hadn’t touched anything that was Jennifer’s. Her clothes still hung in the closet with mine. Her clothes still folded in the drawers. Every single thing she left was still out, untouched. I never wanted to move from the house Jennifer and I shared, but I gave in. It was easier than fighting with them day in and day out. I was a shell of myself. I’m still a shell of myself. I’ve just learned how to hide it from everyone now.
I walk up the back steps, going to the sliding door. Grabbing the handle and pulling it open, I feel the cold air from the air conditioner hit me right away. I kick off my boots on the little mat before I make my way to the kitchen. Going straight to the cabinet over the fridge, I grab the half-full bottle of whiskey before going to the couch. I sit down and place the bottle on the coffee table. Twisting the cap off, I toss it across the room and watch it land somewhere in the corner before I bring the bottle to my mouth and take a big pull of the amber liquid. The burning is almost nonexistent anymore since I drank some before I took my walk after dinner.
“Fucking hell.” I shake my head, seeing Autumn in my mind before I take another pull and sit back into the cushions of the couch. She was standing there alive, breathing, while Jennifer rots under six feet of dirt. I ignore the way her eyes looked, just as haunted as mine, if not more. I ignore that Jennifer would not want me to blame her. I ignore it all while I take another pull of the amber liquid. My eyes go to the frame sitting in the middle of the coffee table of Jennifer and me from the first night we met, standing beside her with my arm around her shoulder. The regret of not marrying her is something I carry with me daily. Not making her mine forever will always be my biggest mistake.
My heart feels the usual pressure when I look at the picture, as the sorrow comes slowly after. I take another long pull before putting my head back and closing my eyes, bringing me back to the day my life ended.