Page 94 of Finding Their Place

She’d committed suicide, using her bedsheet to hang herself.

No note, no final goodbye.

My heart lay dead in my chest, unmoved toward tears or regrets. Same as always throughout my life, she’d put her own needs above her only child’s. Her depression then mental illness had dragged her down to the point she’d chosen to escape reality rather than facing life and attempting to make amends for all the childhood trauma she’d inflicted on me.

Not that I’d have forgiven her even if she’d asked.

Resignation settled inside me without any emotional upheaval. “Did you tell my dad yet?” I asked once my uncle went quiet without a hint of tears in my voice.

“No. I thought perhaps you would want to do that.”

“Nope.” I hadn’t spoken to the sperm donor for years and had no wish to open up doors best left closed. I gave my uncle the last contact number I had for the man while pouring the final drop of chardonnay into my empty glass.

“If you require any—”

“I’m good, Uncle. Thanks.”

“Well, we’ll be lifting you up before the Throne of God in prayer, Haley. Trust in Him to see you through this tough time.”

I rolled my eyes and made a noise of agreement, promising I would call him if I needed anything.

As if.

The last fucking thing I wanted to hear or talk about was how some God in Glory wanted to wrap me in his arms—when he’d allowed sin in the first place, then decided to let souls who didn’t love him burn in hell.

Fuck that.

I’d had enough narcissism in my life for real.

Once we hung up, I sat in silence, listening to the sounds of traffic outside my closed windows, a dog barking nearby, and my new neighbors on the left playing some dance techno shit a little too loudly.

Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to feel, searched my heart and mind, expecting some sort of grief over the death of my mother like stinging eyes or a tight throat.

Nothing but bitterness swirled in my guts and bruised heart. Continued pissiness toward the woman who’d lied to and abandoned me clung to my soul.

Mom had lived a selfish life and ended up broken beyond repair, desperate for release from her problems—all of her own doing and exactly as she deserved.

I fought off depression similar to what I remember being the first signs of her psychosis. Dad had tried to talk her into getting help when I’d been a young teen, but knowing better than everyone else, Mom had refused. She’d ended up with psychosis that landed her in the psych ward.

“I won’t be like her,” I whispered what I often did whenever I felt frail in my emotions.

My declaration continued to chant in my head, solidifying to a fact I felt in every cell of my body. No fear of falling and wallowing rose to choke off my will to live.

I would press onward, rise above my wounds rather than wallow in them and allow negative issues surrounding me to be my focal point.

Making a new life for myself without liars and manipulators was possible. I just needed to set my teeth into that fact and be the pitbull my koala—no, Garrett—had claimed me to be.

My goddamn throat choked up over that resettling of my mind, but I reminded myself I didn’t need him and Wyatt to find happiness and contentment.

Determined to create both on my own, I opened up my laptop and began the search for a job. One that would provide enough money to keep me afloat and hopefully, offer a chance to make new friends.

31

Wyatt

Garrett seemed to need space, so I gave it to him. Quiet introspection on his part became the norm the next couple of days, and the double shutting out of the two I longed for fucked with my brain. I felt emotionally abandoned by the man I craved and the continued silence from Haley…

Something needed to give before I lost my fucking mind.

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