Page 40 of Fated
Ignoring everyone watching me with concern, I stood beside my mom and just stared at her. I didn’t want to have to explain my actions.Losing Victor had been a relief. Losing my mom was going to be the hardest thing I would ever live through.
“Sit,” Blake whispered softly beside my ear as I felt a chair against the back of my knees. I complied, still holding my mom’s hand.
“I want to be alone,” I whispered with my eyes still on my mother's face.
Even though I knew she wasn't there anymore, I still expected her to open her eyes and smile at me like she'd done countless times before.
“Sure,” he whispered. “I’ll be outside if you need anything.”
I gave him a brief nod and I heard footsteps. The door to the room closed and I let out a heavy breath filled with the feeling of loss.
My thumb rubbed the cooling skin of my mom’s hand as I contemplated everything she’d been through. She’d had a rough life and yet when I needed it, she would give me an encouraging smile and kind words to keep me going.
I swallowed hard. How was I going to carry on without her?
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I whispered softly. I hadn’t been with her when she’d died and I felt guilty.
In my mind I heard her voice say, “It’s okay, baby.”
I pressed a kiss to her hand.
I lost track of how long I sat beside her bed, taking in every line and every feature on her face. I was scared that with time I was going to forget what she looked like so I was studying her to make sure I would always have a picture of her in my mind.
In my memories of her she would be happy—not sad like she’d been in life.
Finally, I stood up and pushed the chair back.I leaned closer to my mom and breathed her in one last time.
“I love you, Mommy,” I whispered as I pressed a kiss to her forehead.
I’d shut my emotions off. I felt empty and numb. Slowly, I released her hand and set it beside her body.
Blake, Curtis and Kyle were all standing outside the door when I exited the room. They all turned to watch me walk out of the room. Ignoring their concerned gazes, I walked down the hallway and out of the medical center. I needed to do something but I had no idea what.
I wanted to leave the compound and run into the forest, to escape if only for a little while, but I couldn't. Not with Richard still plotting my demise. I needed something to help the devastating feelings ripping through me. I headed back to my room and began to rummage through the dresser. Right at the back of the drawer I found the bottle of old whiskey I was looking for.
I’d never been much of drinker but at the moment I needed something to help numb the pain. I found a glass and poured myself half a glass. With my hand gripping the glass like a lifeline, I took a gulp. The liquid burned down my throat and I gasped. Before I could change my mind, I took another couple of gulps.
I hated my father for everything he’d done to my mother but hating him didn’t fix anything. It was a wasted feeling; it didn’t erase the past or bring her back. Closing my eyes as I gripped the glass, I tried to ride out the overwhelming loss at the thought that I would never again hear her voice, or feel her soft, comforting touch.
Growing up with a monster as a father had been difficult, and holding on to my humanity had been hard, but I somehow I had. If it hadn’t been for my mom, I would have let my humanity go and there was no doubt in my mind that I would have turned out exactly like my father.
It wasn’t working. The alcohol was flowing in my veins but it wasn’t easing the increasing ache of loss I felt. I released the glass and pushed it away. A deep breath in and out did not ease the sting of tears.
“I’m here,” Blake whispered in my ear as I felt his arms around me. I leaned against him, needing support. He turned me and laid my head against the warmth of his chest, his arms wrapping around me and giving me comfort. I wanted to stay like this and ignore the cruel outside world that had brought me nothing but an unending pain.
He pulled away slightly to lift me up and he carried me to my bed where he laid me gently down. I rolled onto my side, away from him, and curled up into a ball.
“Talk to me,” he whispered as I felt the bed dip slightly behind me as his hand rested on my shoulder.
What was there to say? Talking about it certainly wasn’t going to make me feel any better.
“What can I do?” he asked softly. I closed my eyes tightly for a brief few seconds as I contemplated his question before I opened my eyes and sat up. I turned to face him.
Being close to him was what I wanted. I needed to be as close to him as possible.
“I want you,” I stated, my eyes meeting his. There was a fleeting fear of rejection.
“You have me,” he declared as he took my hand in his.
