Page 75 of Chalk Outline
He runs through the rain while his mom shouts at him to get back.
“Klaus, you can’t just leave.”
“It’s fine. We can’t stay here until morning because you’re afraid to get wet,” he replies playfully as he runs out of the massive wrought-iron gate. “Love you, Mom. I’ll call you later.”
She gasps, unsure of what to say, and sheepishly flicks her gaze at me. She gives me a tense, impatient smile before taking off. “I’d better leave. Take care, Reeve.”
Wet, frustrated, and starving, I watch her leave, too.
I’m all alone.
Again.
Something heavy pounds against my head, and my knees sink into the grass. My hands fall onto it as I attempt to steady myself. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them, but everything becomes blurrier.
Shadows and distant sounds of whimpers, raindrops, and shoes shuffling around me ring in my ears. But I can’t concentrate enough to understand what is happening.
I feel someone’s hands in my pockets before their laughter fades into the distance as I bring my hand to my head. Blood coats my fingers.
The pain in my head feels explosive, as if my skull is cracking open.
I roll onto my back and check my pockets.
Nothing.
They took the phone and the money.
I scream inwardly and take a deep breath.
Paralyzed, I watch the raindrops dance around me mockingly as they cleanse my miserable existence.
Chapter thirteen
Reeve Hardy
Rain — Sleep Token
I slam the basement door hard. The hinges rattle behind me. The pack of cigarettes crumples in my fist and falls to the floor. I grab a gun from the wall beside me and hurl it across the room. My jaw clenches. I throw a hammer into the wall, then a box of ammo right after. Bullets scatter across the floor.
I hate to lie to her.
I fucking hate myself for it.
“Ahhhhhhhh!” I roar.
I cock my hand back, ready to hit the wall, when Winona’s face flashes brightly in my mind. She’d be disappointed if I hurt something she loves so much that she was willing to travel thousands of miles to find answers. I stop just inches from the wall, tempted to go through with it, but I can’t allow myself to.
I’m better than this.
She is better than that fucker who tried to hurt her.
She is better than anyone.
I flip over more boxes and the wooden chair in the corner, tearing through everything I can grasp. Everything crashes to the floor, then crumples under my boot as I unleash my fury.
I don’t want anything.
“I just want my wife,” I choke on the words, hitting my back against the wall behind me and sliding to the floor.
