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Having his child growing inside me gave me the will to keep on going, to put one foot in front of the other.

To keep breathing.

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Chapter Fifty-Eight

Hope

"Come home, Angel," my father pleaded down the phone. "It's not good for you being there on your own like this."

I shook my head.

I wasn’t leaving.

I couldn’t.

This was all I had left of him.

I couldn’t let it go.

I couldn’t walk away.

I needed to stay right here, frozen in time, where his smell was still present.

Where his words were in my mind, his hands still roamed over my flesh.

Where I could feel him, and taste him, and hear him.

Where he still lived on.

Screw broken and bent, I was shattered and gutted.

Every breath I took caused the pieces of my heart to splinter and spear me.

The pain was festering inside of me, poisoned hatred and resentment tormenting my every waking hour

Broken hearted, I lay in bed, feeling like death, looking like it, too.

I felt as though I'd been bled dry.

It was because of him.

Because I had lost him.

Because I was sorry I couldn’t save him.

****

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Hope

As the days turned into weeks, I found myself detaching from everything I had once held dear.

Family held no meaning for me any longer.

Not without the center point of mine.

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