Page 161 of Sweet Venom
But now, I can’t do that, so I guess there’s no reason for me to stick around. I’ll haunt Regis if he marries someone after me, though, so maybe don’t let him.
Take care of Jude for me, Julian, okay? He’s your only brother and he does look up to you, even if he doesn’t show it, so don’t leave him to the vultures out there. Tell him I loved him so much and that I’m sorry I couldn’t love him the way he deserves. I failed him as a mom, and I’m truly, truly sorry.
I hope he lives a happier life than I did.
Love,
Susie Callahan
32
JUDE
Ithrow my helmet against the bench and fall onto the seat that has seen me more often than not during this game.
One more penalty, and the coach will bench me.
He’s been yelling at me nonstop, his face red, sweat trickling down his temples despite the ice cold. Chances are, I’ll give him a stroke.
Fuck him.
And the referee.
And this entire goddamn game.
I chug a whole bottle of water, breathing heavily, my heart nearly dislodging itself from its confinement.
I despise the penalty box. Fucking hate it.
I should be out there crushing bones and breaking some unfortunate souls beneath my skates. But here I am, motionless like a caged animal.
Without purpose.
And all I can do is watch the guys try to keep up with the Warriors’ brutal power play.
Preston speeds to the attack, his agile movements eradicating the defense.
Thud.
I jump up, banging on the barrier as Preston hits the ice.
The crowd erupts in a loud “Ahhh” as Preston remains down after being checked violently by Number 25—the one I beat the crap out of earlier because he keeps fucking targeting Preston.
Yeah, I’m sure Pres said some shit to provoke him at the start of the game, but he’s been a raging fucking bitch who needs to be put in his place.
I’m going to twist his motherfucking neck before I’m benched for good in this clusterfuck game.
Preston stands up with the help of Kane and a couple others, but he removes his helmet and has to be checked by the doctor. Blood trails down the corner of his mouth, and he grins at me, holding two thumbs-up, because Number 25 got five minutes in the box.
Fucking prick seems to be suicidal lately.
I hate that he’s willing to get hurt just to gain a power play or to send someone on the opposing team to the box whenever I’m there.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on with Pres, and I don’t have the capacity to check on him as often as I should, considering my own goddamn fucked-up situation.
Ever since that nightmarish dinner a few days ago, I’ve been spiraling. I know I have, because no amount of violence, various Vencor missions, or even killing on behalf of the Members has managed to fill this black hole inside me.
If anything, it’s been widening and deepening at an alarming rate. The demons have gotten louder, demanding more blood, more crushed bones, and more empty eyes.
