Pieces of Truth - By Angela Richardson Page 0,78

us and trying to keep pace. This was not good. If they thought Clint was out to hurt me, this could get very ugly and violent and I wouldn’t be able to stop them.

I should have realized Clint would be out in his car driving. He used it as a way to cope with pressure and stress and emotional pain, but even knowing how skilled he was behind the wheel, I still couldn’t predict if I was safe. He looked like he had nothing to lose and when you have nothing to lose, there is no such thing as going too far. I wasn’t sure what Clint’s plans were right now, but I knew I had to get him to calm down. “Clint, you need to stop the car and let me out.” My voice tried to remain steady as I spoke. Clint’s eyes flashed to mine. They were bloodshot.

“No, Norah. No, this isn’t ending. You forgave me once, you can forgive me again.” I heard the desperation of his plea, and my heart broke from his pain. I didn’t want to see him like this, even if I didn’t want to be with him anymore.

“It’s different this time Clint. I can’t forgive what you did. I won’t ever get over it. The person I’m meant to be with would never do something like that. They would never hire someone with the intention of,” I swallowed, “hurting my friend.”

Clint released the steering wheel, his hands flying up and then back down, hitting the wheel hard.

“I did it to protect me, and you, Norah. I only did what Samuel did to me first.” He was trying to make a case for his actions but nothing would excuse it in my head.

“You are talking about death Clint. Hiring someone to kill my friend. What you chose to do...”

I trailed off. I hadn’t given too much thought as to why Clint chose to do what he did. How could he possibly believe that was the best course of action? How did he think I would act when I found out? Then it hit me. I was never supposed to find out. I would have never been told. It was probably going to be made to look like an accident like so many of those pre-determined deaths were. I looked at Clint again, now fully realizing his capabilities and how far he was willing to go. How he was exactly like the one man who filled me with all the horrific and gruesome images that haunted me to this very day.

He was just like my Dad.

“Stop the car Clint.” I tried to be forceful but my voice sounded weak and frightened. The car following us started to beep its horn, trying to get us to pull over, but Clint only continued to accelerate with even more ferocious speed. This was getting out of control, and the longer Clint continued to drive like this, the greater the threat to his life.

“No, I won’t stop. I won’t stop until you agree to give me another chance. I don’t care about Hollows.” I saw how red his hands were getting from the blood trying to flow through them as they stayed glued to the wheel. The honking behind us increased and from the view from the car’s side door mirror, I could see my Dad’s men try and pull into the next lane so they could get side by side to Clint’s car.

“Norah, I know you slept with Josh. I know he finally got you into bed. I can tell, I see it,” he paused and looked towards my barely buttoned up business shirt that was Josh’s. “I see him all over you.” His voice cracked, and he blinked hard, trying to stop the tears that were welling in his eyes. “But I don’t care. I don’t care. I still want you. I will always want you, and I know you want me too. We just made mistakes. We can get past this and be together,” he breathed heavily, “forever.”

I didn’t know whether to slap him for the pain he caused me or try and comfort his wounded heart. I was so conflicted with how to treat him. I didn’t want to be with him, but I didn’t want to be cruel either. This was not a time for my anger, but a time for me to be compassionate.

“Clint,” I said, and rested my hand on his shoulder. A whimper escaped his mouth as I showed him

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