Page 19 of Protector

Not really.

My tears fell soundlessly against the toilet seat as everything I thought I knew came crumbling down.

Instead of fighting it, I surrendered and let the monster fully consume me. A jagged piece of mirror on the tile reflected the madness in my eyes.

Maybe I hadn’t been her protector, but I sure as fuck planned on avenging her. I swiped the back of my hand across my mouth before pushing down the handle and letting the last traces of my softness circle the bowl before disappearing completely.

According to the records, Jamie Quinn had been dead since October 18, 1996. I left his body lying on a bathroom floor, surrounded by broken glass and his wife’s blood.

Chapter Four

Celia: 2000

“Celia?” Lucy rubbed my forearm. “It’s time to wake up and eat.”

I kept my eyes closed, feigning sleep with a deep inhale. In truth, I’d been awake for hours, listening to the faint sounds of Fleetwood Mac coming from one of the other rooms.

With the music, came memories. I saw Jamie crooning Pink Floyd to a fussy Kate as he rocked her in his arms. I remembered the way my chin seemed to fit perfectly against his shoulder as we swayed back and forth across the living room carpet.

For the first time, I understood why people became addicts. The drugs that Lucy had given me over the last couple of weeks kept me in a suspended state of reality. In my world, Jamie chose to stay, and we were a family.

We were safe.

I never wanted to leave.

The music faded into white noise, but I kept my eyes closed, unwilling to face the truth. Even with people coming and going regularly, I was alone.

I’d been told that my girls were safe but didn’t know where they were. Bikers filled my house, continually reminding me of the hell they were going to bring to Hawk and the others, while conveniently leaving Jamie’s name out of it.

Maybe they feared suddenly alerting me to the fact that he’d never come home; as if I wasn’t painfully aware of his absence with each day that passed.

Early on, I prayed. I begged and pleaded for a second chance, all while knowing what the steady flow of blood meant. I prayed that Jamie’s love for me would somehow outweigh what I’d done.

I wanted his forgiveness so badly that, in my drugged state, I’d become convinced that he had rushed home to get to me; completely devastated and blaming himself.

My prayers stopped when I realized they were nothing more than delusional fantasies. God and the saints were saving their miracles for someone more worthy, and my husband had finally given me the separation I’d demanded for the better part of two years.

This was my purgatory.

“Celia, come on. Rise and shine.”

Maybe it was for the best.

He’d never have to see what I’d become.

I reluctantly opened one eye and then the other before meeting Lucy’s concerned gaze.

“There you are. Thought you were going to sleep the rest of the day away.” She pulled a bowl off the nightstand and held it out for me. “I saved you some of my potato soup—”

“No, thank you.” I pushed it away.

Lucy sighed. “Celia, you have to eat something.”

The mere thought of food turned my stomach, and I shook my head before sitting up. “Not right now. I need to shower.”

“But you just took one this morning.”

I kicked my feet over the side of the bed, swaying slightly as the room spun around me. Lucy placed a steadying hand on my arm, and I reached up to squeeze it before finding my footing. “I’m good. I’ll just wash up and then try a little soup.”

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