27. Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-seven
Summer
“Summer, stop.”
Alec’s voice penetrates through my eardrums, dragging the pain in my chest into an endless pit. I ignore him and keep moving faster, but I’m not fast enough.
The second his fingers wrap around my wrist, I turn around, my eyes blazing into Alec’s. My teeth grit together so tight, they very well may have split in half.
“Jesus, Summer. Can you stop for one second?”
I tug my arm from his grip. “Don’t fucking touch me,” I warn.
He raises his hands, palms facing me. “Please, just listen to me.”
Sympathy fills his features, and for a split second, I almost give in. But I remind myself of what he did—the lies.
My throat feels like it’s on fire. “There is nothing to talk about, Alec.” I ignore the way his dark eyebrows narrow. “Leave me alone, or I’ll have you arrested myself.”
His eyes harden. He’s quiet for a long time, studying me before his hand reaches up, scratching his temple. With a short move of his head, he turns around and walks away.
There is the slightest bit of hope inside of me that he’ll ignore my threat and turn around. If I’m being honest, I’m not positive I meant what I said to him. But the pain embedded in my soul is enough to know that I need to walk away from this—away from us.
Because there was never really an us from the start.
Breathing in, I go straight home—if I can even call that my home anymore.
The sun dips below the horizon, casting long shadows slightly above the tree line. The shadows now mirror the darkness that grows within my heart. My body aches, and my chest becomes tighter with each step I take. I feel like I can hardly breathe anymore. Everything around me is blurry from the uncontrollable tears that continue to spill out of my lids.
There is so much anger inside of me I feel like I’m going to burst.
For months, I’ve held every emotion inside, allowing them to gnaw at my insides like a parasite. It has now consumed me from the outside in, leaving me no longer able to contain the pain.
Today has been filled with nothing but a downpour of disappointment, betrayal, and heartache. So much that it physically hurts. It hurts so bad that I don’t know how I’m ever going to pull myself back together.
My tiny body can’t handle much more of this.
Struggling to catch my breath, I gasp for air and clutch at my chest. My hand grips my shirt tighter, tugging in an attempt to release the suffocation I feel.
Clamping my eyes shut, I try to suck in as much oxygen as I can. My legs shake desperately as I make my way up the front porch of my house and use my palm to open the door.
I go straight to the upstairs bathroom, feeling the need to scrub my skin until there is nothing left to scrub.
My head spins, taking my body with it. I grip strands of my hair, nearly ripping them from the roots. Hoping the sting will push the pain in my heart aside.
Pieces of my heart are missing.
Pieces I will never get back.
I didn’t deserve this, did I?
Was this one big punishment for every lousy choice I’ve made recently?
The questions speed through me, slamming against my brain. It’s like a wave that I’m desperate to run away from, not wanting to be pulled under the water.
I have no control.
Running to the toilet and flipping the lid open, I dry heave, on the edge of throwing up. My throat bursts into flames, and I’m sobbing into the toilet bowl.
I can’t do this.
Breathe , Summer. You need to get it together.
It takes me a bit to get myself together before pushing off the floor and standing on my own two feet. My breathing comes in short, shallow gasps. I swallow through the stinging in my throat, still struggling to contain the inner demon that is ready to break free.
I clench my fingers tightly around the edge of the oval porcelain sink. The veins in my hands protruded with force. With each hard breath I take, it becomes heavier, harder to breathe.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I’m filled with disappointment. Each inch of my face is contorted with agony and fury. The fluorescent light above the sink emphasizes the redness and swelling that mars my features.
I don’t recognize myself anymore.
My head is pounding, loud thuds beating against my ear drums. It drowns out everything.
Shut up. Shut up.
“Shut up!” I scream on the top of my lungs.
I need it to stop. Please , stop.
Using my hands, I fill my palms with cold water and splash it on my face, losing count of how many times I’ve done it. I allow the water to soak into my skin. Water drips off my chin and onto my shirt as I breathe slowly through my mouth.
I drag my feet to my room, my fingers trembling as I fumble with the doorknob. It’s a struggle to contain the turbulent storm within my soul. I hardly notice the creaking sound from the hinges from the buzzing in my ears.
Slamming the door shut, I flick the lock.
This room was once my oasis of peace. But now, there’s nothing that feels welcoming anymore. The bright color of my walls once made me the happiest. They do nothing but mock me now.
As I shuffle my feet to the other side of the room, the tightening in my chest deepens. I feel like if I stop moving, the storm will rise, unleashing all of my pent-up emotions in one big explosive burst.
Pausing in the middle of the room to regain my composure, my nails dig into my palm, drawing blood. I suck in a large amount of air before screaming at the top of my lungs.
Tears of betrayal flow down my face, hot and salty. I hiccup through each sob, fighting with myself to calm the panic attack.
A split second. That’s all it took for my eyes to shoot open as my brain struggles to comprehend what’s about to happen. Without warning, my fingers rapidly glide across my computer desk, shoving everything in its path to collide with the far wall and scatter onto the floor like a hailstorm.
My shaky hands grab each poster I have hanging up, forcefully tearing them down one by one. The sound of the paper splitting echoes through the room.
Somehow, my alarm clock ends up in my hand. I stare at it momentarily before another scream falls from my lungs, and I chuck it across the room, watching it shatter into pieces and drop onto the floor.
Clenching my knees, I rock back and forth in the center of the room. My stomach recoils. How could I let my guard down so easily?
I’m left with nothing but this hollow ache inside of my chest, and it is eating me alive, making me feel hopeless and unworthy.
I lost my mother. I lost my father.
The one person I felt complete with lied to me and betrayed me… used me.
I have no career.
There’s nothing left.
And I don’t know if I can recover from this.
***
The muscles throughout my body are sore. When I open my eyes, I find that I cried myself to sleep and have been curled into a ball on the floor, surrounded by the mess I created yesterday.
The ache in my chest lingers, and I want nothing more for it to disappear. But that’s not possible given the circumstances of what my life has become.
Forcing myself off the floor, I stretch out my limbs, trying to feel some relief and look around the room. I can’t help but feel bad that I destroyed a good portion of my things.
I spend twenty minutes cleaning up as much as possible, starting with the books that flung off my desk. I place them neatly on top of the oak wood and start grabbing handfuls of scraps from the posters and putting them into the small trash bin beside my desk. I do my best to clean up as much of the metal shards from my alarm clock as possible and toss those into the trash, too. Only so much will fit in this tiny bin, leaving the rest of the room a mess, but it’ll do for now.
Grabbing clean clothes from the drawer, I go into the bathroom, turn the shower on, and wait until the water is steaming through the small space. As I undress, my eyes water. My mind replays every moment I had with Alec.
I miss the way he made me feel.
It’s weird, to say the least. Considering it hasn’t been that long since he made me feel good.
Shoving my thoughts aside, I mentally push them into a tiny little box inside my heart.
When I barged into the studio, I half expected things to go differently. But anger sprung when I saw Alec’s dark hair through the small, frosted glass window on the door. The kind of anger that makes heartache that much worse. And before I knew it, the words rolled off my tongue before I had a chance to stop them.
A long sigh flows out of my mouth as I slip off my clothing. Denim shorts pool down to my ankles, taking my laced panties with them. Crossing my arms, I fling off my shirt and unhook my bra before checking the shower water temperature and step inside.
The hot, steamy water hits my skin. I close my eyes, soaking up the comfort it brings.
Once I’ve applied shampoo to my hair and rinsed it off, I scrub my body. I diligently wash away, continuing until I reach a point where tears well up in my eyes, and I struggle to breathe.
Part of me wonders if I should call Alec to at least listen to what he has to say. But what good would that do anyhow? He still kept things from me, used me, and treated me like I was some puppet in whatever game he was trying to play.
Turning the water off, I ring out my hair and wrap a towel over my body. I soak up the heat of the room until my bones settle down and my heart regulates, then I get dressed and head downstairs.
I need to speak with Dad. Maybe if I can get answers from him, everything will go away. There’s a part of me that feels stupid that any answers would heal my open wounds. They are still there, taunting me from the inside, unable to be patched up.
Walking into the kitchen, I stop. My body tightens as I watch Dad at the stove, using a fork to maneuver something in the pan. When I look at the round clock hanging on the wall and see it’s eight-thirty in the morning, my brows crease. He should be at work by now.
As if reading my mind, he turns his head. “I’m going in late this morning. Figured you and I could have breakfast and clear the air.”
Frowning, I scratch my upper arm. “Yeah. That’d be nice.” I think. Honestly, I’m not so sure.
“Why don’t you have a seat, princess.” Dad puts what looks like sausage onto a large plate with scrambled eggs.
I hesitate for a moment. But when I see Dad’s half-smile filled with sincerity as he places a plate down on the table, I give in and sit down. I study the strange breakfast concoction on my plate; none of it looks remotely edible.
Dad takes a bite. He watches me closely as he chews. Tension builds up between us, and I don’t love how it feels. Dad unwraps the napkin on the side of his plate and brings it to his mouth.
When he’s done, he rolls it into a ball, leaving it in his fist. “Your mother always did say I was a terrible cook.”
I give him a sad smile from the mention of Mom. “Yeah. You’re certainly not the greatest.”
He pushes himself up, grabs our plates, and tosses the food into the trash, and dishes into the sink. “There’s coffee if you’d like some.”
“Sure. Yeah. That sounds nice.” I make a scrunched face when Dad turns around to grab a mug from the cabinet, wishing my words didn’t sound as awkward as they did.
I watch as he pours the coffee into the pink porcelain mug with my initials on it. His relaxing posture gives me enough hope to ease my way into the conversation I want to discuss.
“Cream? Sugar?” He doesn’t turn to look at me when he asks.
“Please.”
Neither of us says anything as he pulls Mom’s favorite sugar spoon from the silverware drawer and adds two spoonful’s of sugar into the hot coffee. My teeth tug on my bottom lip, abusing the flesh as a strange feeling coats my insides, making me feel as though Dad used that spoon to torment me in some way.
Dad quickly adds a dash of cream, stirs it, and places the mug in front of me. I give a soft smile as a way of thanks. He doesn’t sit back down like I thought he would. Instead, he leans against the counter and watches me as I blow into the mug before taking a small sip.
The warmth of the liquid flows down my throat, heating my insides and making me relax.
Shifting in my seat, I tap my fingers against the side of the cup for a beat. “Hey, Dad.”
“What is it, princess?”
I hate the stale tone in his voice. “Can I ask you something?”
He turns his head slightly. “Of course.”
I swallow through my scratchy throat. “I-I… um.” I adjust myself, trying to regain focus to spit the words out. “I saw Mom’s file.”
My eyes move up to his slowly. He remains still, staring at me blankly. It suddenly feels a lot hotter in here than it typically would on a hot summer day. The silence is threatening, and my heart begins to thud faster.
Something in me has me standing up and walking toward Dad. I reach a hand out, resting my palm on his arm. His eyes pierce through me, his expression cold. “Dad. I know it’s a violation, but I really needed some answers.”
He doesn’t say anything, leaving me feeling more defeated than I was when I saw the missing page in her file.
“Say something,” I beg.
With a quick flare of his nostrils, his arm rockets upward so fast I didn’t see it coming. His fingers wrap around my throat, pushing me as he moves forward. My feet drag against the kitchen floor until my back is met with the wall. A shooting pain slithers down my spine, causing me to wince.
My heart leaps, slamming into my ribs like it’s trying to escape my chest. Dad’s brown eyes lose the tiny speck of warmth they held, turning completely cold, matching his tightening grip around my neck. I wince as his sharp nails dig into my skin, a mix of pain and fear flooding my senses. Gasping, my mouth hangs open, desperately craving a gulp of oxygen.
I struggle to fight back. My arms fly up, grabbing onto his wrists. He’s too strong, and I’m running out of air. I can feel my face turn red. My skin is scorching from the stronghold he has on me.
“You think this is funny ?” His lips purse, but he doesn’t look away from me. I hit and scratch, trying to release his grip, but he doesn’t budge. “I did everything to protect you, and you go behind my back.”
“Dad,” I rasp, struggling to get the word out fully.
He jerks me forward, pulling me closer to his face. The tips of his fingers dig deeper into my skin. His eyes grow darker each passing second, completely blacked out.
“Dad,” I gasp again, struggling more.
I think I’m going to die.
He forcefully pushes me back into the wall, and my head clashes against it, the loud thud echoing through my eardrums. His grip on me gives as he drops his arm to his side. My back glides down the wall, so I’m sitting on the floor. Choking and gasping, my hands flew up to my throat where he had a hold of me.
My teeth grit, watching his every move. A cruel, sinister laugh comes from him. I don’t take my eyes off him for a second as he paces back and forth before crouching in front of me.
I jolt, being stopped by the hard wall behind me. My chest heaves, and my body shakes.
Cocking his head, he raises his hand to my face and runs the back of his fingers down my cheek. I cringe, wishing I could be anywhere but here right now.
“Oh, my sweet little girl,” he tsks. “You will never find out who killed your mother.”
I don’t say anything, not having enough strength to bite back. My vision blurs more with each second that passes.
“ I made sure of that ,” he whispers, standing straight up and slamming the door shut as he leaves.
It takes me a beat to register what the fuck just happened. My stomach twists, my ears buzzing.
Scrambling to my feet, my body trembles as I swiftly dodge towards the trash can. Without hesitation, I toss the lid onto the floor and forcefully hurl into it until I’m left dry heaving.
I’m no longer safe in my own house.