Page 2 of Bullet
I curl them around my body as I step back. I have wanted nothing but this man’s hands on me, but not like this. Not when he is telling me lies.
“No,Jacob,” I spit his name. “Don’t come in here and tell me this bullshit. This is a bad dream, it has to be. My mom is fine. She’s going to walk through those doors any moment and prove you assholes wrong. We need her. I need her.”
He steps forward as I step back, “She was in an accident, Harlee. You know me, I wouldn’t lie to you. Especially not about something like this.”
I can feel my breaths coming quicker as I process his words.
There is only one thing that could break my dad and that is my mom. Bullet must be telling the truth. Thinking back to the look on my father’s face, I can see it now. How do you break the strongest man alive? You take the one thing he cares about more than anything.
His heart.
My head starts pounding as the tears begin to fall.
“No. She can’t be. Tell me she’s fine, Jacob. I need you to tell me she’s going to be okay.”
He looks at me with sympathy. “I can’t do that. We should probably head to the hospital. Just in case.”
In case she dies.
God no. No. No. No. This can’t be happening.
My breaths are coming too fast now. I’m getting dizzy, but he never leaves me, and once my body starts to fall, I know his arms are the ones that catch me.
Two Years Later
“You want another one?” Skyla asks me as she holds up her cup.
I probably shouldn’t. My lips are already numb.
Still, I nod my head. What does it even matter anyway? At least, that’s how life feels these days.
My heart pangs when I think of why I’m here.
It’s my birthday today. If Mom were here, I would have woken up to my favorite blueberry pancakes in bed with an extra side of bacon. We would have had a morning at the spa getting our nails and hair done before she took me out shopping for a new outfit. I would have ended the night at the clubhouse, celebrating nineteen years.
Tears fill my eyes as I think about her. It’s been two years since I’ve had my birthday tradition. Two years of pain and agony that never seems to fade. They say time heals all wounds, but that’s not true. The grief of losing my mom hasn’t lessened since she has been gone. It doesn’t help that all my father does is wallow in his own grief. He is so stricken by the loss of her that he doesn’t even know I exist.
I think that’s been the hardest part of this. I lost my mom, which was tragic, but I also lost my dad, with him sitting right next to me. Two years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to sneak out of the house.
Today? I walked out the front door with him sitting on the couch, drinking another glass of bourbon. He didn’t ask me where I was going. He didn’t even remember my birthday.
I used to want a love like my parents’, but I don’t think I want that anymore. I don’t ever want someone to have the power to break me into so many pieces that I forget about the other people in my life. I never want to have to tell my child that they don’t matter anymore because the one person I love is gone.
No one deserves that. Especially not the daughter who worshipped him. She’s long gone now, replaced by the girl I’ve become. The one barely holding on.
“Here you go. Jeremy has party favors, so I grabbed one for you.” Skyla holds out the cup and a pill.
I don’t even hesitate. I take both, popping the pill in my mouth before I chug the nasty beer she brought me.
She smiles at me as she grabs the cup, tossing it to the side. Then she moves in closer and starts dancing with me.
I let her, liking the feel against my body. At least when I’m out doing shit like this, I don’t feel so hollow. The pain drifts away as does my mind, numbing me to everything going on around me.
If only my dad could see me now. The little girl he taught to be tough as nails and always observant of her surroundings, getting drunk and high at a party where she knows a total of maybe three people. It’s so dangerous it’s not even funny, but I don’t even care. I almost wish someone would finally end my misery. Maybe then all of it will stop.
I want it all to stop.
Skyla leans into me, pressing my body to hers. The sensation feels amazing as the ecstasy kicks in. When she presses her lips to mine, I follow her lead, letting her shove her tongue down my throat. It’s not sexual. Not in the way the guys around us think as they cheer us on. No, it’s the drugs making us want to seek that connection. That stimulation of skin-to-skin contact.
