through . All I want to know about is her .”
Puffy, tear filled eyes looked back to mine. Strands of hair were plastered to her face from the tears that streamed down her cheeks. Haunted eyes shifted down, not able to look into mine a minute more. “She wanted to take her aid packs and some clothes, so I dropped her off. She…uh…told me to give her an hour…so I did. I ran back to my little place and packed a bag. I wasn’t going to let her leave alone. She was the only family I had, so I couldn’t let her go alone.” Her attention turned to her hands, picking and playing with her nails as she continued. “When I got there and she wasn’t out front, I ran up. And he…he was dragging her by her hair across the rug. He was trying to get to the surgical knife that was full of blood on the floor. I threw a picture frame at him, and when let her go, he turned to punch me and she…well…she…ah…”
“Tell me, or use the bat,” I hissed.
“STOP IT, Kade! She stabbed him in the back. Over and over, okay. She wouldn’t stop. She just grabbed the knife, and instead of running, she went back after him until he was lying still on the floor, and she had blood all over her. I grabbed her off him. God, Kade, he looked dead. He looked so dead, I wanted her away from him. She tried to go back to the hospital and get her father, but I got her in the car and told her to drive. She just focused on the driving and that was it…we hardly spoke for like seven hours, and she was just bleeding and bleeding, but she wouldn’t stop. She was screaming at me to leave her, and just let her hide, but I couldn’t. She didn’t want me to be involved. She doesn’t want anyone else hurt by them, Kade. Don’t you get that? She left because she fucking loves you,” she cried. Wiping at her tears, she whispered, “She left because she didn’t want you to be hurt.”
“Whatever, Jen. Now, she’s bloody running around, hiding, with the whole of her life probably packed in the trunk of her car. Fucking alone. Thank you for telling me she stabbed someone in the back. Completely makes me understand how she could just walk out and leave me, too. Please get the fuck out.”
She broke down then, sobbing and whining. “It’s just not fair to you. I just can’t believe she’d do this.” I could see myself wrapping my hands around her little pathetic neck, and shaking her fucking brain against her skull until it looked like dull, pink, gelatinous Jell-O.
“Life’s not bloody fair, princess. She did what she wanted to do. The end,” I whispered, harshly. Getting up, I walked out, slamming the door behind me and stormed into my room, locking the door. Fuck everybody .
I ripped through my closets for brandy. Found four motherfucking bottles and poured them straight down my throat. Double-stuff-fuck-everybody.
I think two days blurred by, where I was sick with gut wrenching pains and fucking agonizing aches in my chest. Gravely, I clung to my desolation, reveled in its bitter coldness. But those fucking two arses that lived with me, were relentless in trying to ‘ get me to talk through my feelings ’ or ‘ put to practice my anger management strategies .’ Which led me to theatrically cursing out my therapist and threatening to ‘ chain him to the back of my bloody truck and drag him around town until his flesh scraped itself to the bone .’ I also somehow started a small fire in the master bedroom. Who knew apple and cinnamon soap was so bloody flammable. They should label that shit. I guessed Dylan and Jen were almost reaching their boiling point, when they invited their pussy of a friend, Francis, over to ‘talk to me.’
As soon as I saw Fran’s face at the door, I punched it. I was left alone after that.
Obsessions grew.
My mind filled with ghosts. The rooms in my house became haunted by her. Her phantom hand still held
Puffy, tear filled eyes looked back to mine. Strands of hair were plastered to her face from the tears that streamed down her cheeks. Haunted eyes shifted down, not able to look into mine a minute more. “She wanted to take her aid packs and some clothes, so I dropped her off. She…uh…told me to give her an hour…so I did. I ran back to my little place and packed a bag. I wasn’t going to let her leave alone. She was the only family I had, so I couldn’t let her go alone.” Her attention turned to her hands, picking and playing with her nails as she continued. “When I got there and she wasn’t out front, I ran up. And he…he was dragging her by her hair across the rug. He was trying to get to the surgical knife that was full of blood on the floor. I threw a picture frame at him, and when let her go, he turned to punch me and she…well…she…ah…”
“Tell me, or use the bat,” I hissed.
“STOP IT, Kade! She stabbed him in the back. Over and over, okay. She wouldn’t stop. She just grabbed the knife, and instead of running, she went back after him until he was lying still on the floor, and she had blood all over her. I grabbed her off him. God, Kade, he looked dead. He looked so dead, I wanted her away from him. She tried to go back to the hospital and get her father, but I got her in the car and told her to drive. She just focused on the driving and that was it…we hardly spoke for like seven hours, and she was just bleeding and bleeding, but she wouldn’t stop. She was screaming at me to leave her, and just let her hide, but I couldn’t. She didn’t want me to be involved. She doesn’t want anyone else hurt by them, Kade. Don’t you get that? She left because she fucking loves you,” she cried. Wiping at her tears, she whispered, “She left because she didn’t want you to be hurt.”
“Whatever, Jen. Now, she’s bloody running around, hiding, with the whole of her life probably packed in the trunk of her car. Fucking alone. Thank you for telling me she stabbed someone in the back. Completely makes me understand how she could just walk out and leave me, too. Please get the fuck out.”
She broke down then, sobbing and whining. “It’s just not fair to you. I just can’t believe she’d do this.” I could see myself wrapping my hands around her little pathetic neck, and shaking her fucking brain against her skull until it looked like dull, pink, gelatinous Jell-O.
“Life’s not bloody fair, princess. She did what she wanted to do. The end,” I whispered, harshly. Getting up, I walked out, slamming the door behind me and stormed into my room, locking the door. Fuck everybody .
I ripped through my closets for brandy. Found four motherfucking bottles and poured them straight down my throat. Double-stuff-fuck-everybody.
I think two days blurred by, where I was sick with gut wrenching pains and fucking agonizing aches in my chest. Gravely, I clung to my desolation, reveled in its bitter coldness. But those fucking two arses that lived with me, were relentless in trying to ‘ get me to talk through my feelings ’ or ‘ put to practice my anger management strategies .’ Which led me to theatrically cursing out my therapist and threatening to ‘ chain him to the back of my bloody truck and drag him around town until his flesh scraped itself to the bone .’ I also somehow started a small fire in the master bedroom. Who knew apple and cinnamon soap was so bloody flammable. They should label that shit. I guessed Dylan and Jen were almost reaching their boiling point, when they invited their pussy of a friend, Francis, over to ‘talk to me.’
As soon as I saw Fran’s face at the door, I punched it. I was left alone after that.
Obsessions grew.
My mind filled with ghosts. The rooms in my house became haunted by her. Her phantom hand still held
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