It comes out with resentment, and I hate that. Hate that it slipped out. We have so much to work out. If we want to be a family again, that’s what needs to happen. He needs to realize we can’t fix everything and moving forward is our only option.
“After you fix yourself and win that girl’s heart, then we can talk about you being a part of Lev’s life. You ruined me, and I ruined you, Toby. Let’s stop the vicious cycle and fix this.”
He nods but doesn’t say anything.
“We were good once. Let’s be that again?”
“I’m not good for anyone in this state,” he says solemnly.
“Then get sober, call Bobbie, and fucking make amends.”
His eyes connect with mine
“You’re right.”
“Aren’t I always?”
“So modest,” he chides. Then I’m hugging him, feeling the barrier I’ve constructed between us break in his hold. It’s familiar. Not love. Not forbidden. Just what it was meant to be.
Us.
“I love you, Toby,” I whisper.
“I love you too, Sparkle.”
“Now go be the man you were with me for her. But this time,” I say, pulling back, “be better. She deserves nothing less than your best.”
He nods, kissing my forehead. The heat swims through me in a comfortable way. It’s crazy to think how five years ago, it brought me mixed emotions. Now, it brings me nothing but closure.
When he releases me and drives away, I don’t feel any more pain or resentment. All that’s left is happiness.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Three Weeks Later
Joey
Who knew getting your heart broken would feel like a loss worse than death? I’ve been living at Treasure Cove—a hotel—hoping my life won’t end with the many times I’ve taken a blade to it.
I know it’s wrong.
I know it’s detrimental.
I can’t seem to care anyway.
Blood bubbles at the newest site. The makeshift razor I made from a broken knife blade is my only tool. This cut is deep. So deep that the bubbles are forming into a huge stream.
Fuck.
I’m usually careful. Use the pressure as a release, stop crying, allow myself a new pain to make me forget about the true culprit.
Not this time.
No matter how many strikes against my bumpy flesh, I can’t stop. It’s not abating anything. It’s worsening my hatred and absolutely wrecking me.
I need to breathe.
Just fucking let me breathe.
Instead of getting a rag for the crimson leakage, I just rest against the door of my temporary bathroom and let the red drip.
Everyone says red is an indicator of negative behavior. Whether anger or rage, it describes a feeling that isn’t pleasant.
It always made me wonder why blood was red. It’s not an angry liquid. It’s a solemn and desolate one. Where your body hates itself so much that the blood wants to leak as tears do. It’s such a fluorescent color too, bright and thick. It’s so beautiful.
Blood travels down my pale arms to my open palm, and I watch as it paints me. Not in anger, no. It’s something else. It reminds me of hopelessness, but there was never any hope, was there?
I set aside my new blade and stand. The red smears the carpet and drips as I walk. I must’ve hit a muscle or something because I’m getting a little woozy.
Maybe it’s the sight of blood. I’ve never been a fan, even if cutting is my ritual.
I find the bottle of Jameson I stole from Toby before leaving three weeks ago. He thinks I don’t know he has one in every room of our place. I’m stupid, just not that stupid.
When I grab the green bottle, it feels heavy in my palm. I pop the cap and take a swig. A cough leaves me, because shit, this stuff is potent. After drinking a ton of wine, this almost seems like gasoline in comparison.
How the hell did he gulp this like water? Grabbing my phone, I take it with me to the bathroom, grab my blade, and sit in the bathtub.
I take a swig; I strike my skin.
I take a gulp; I dig into my flesh.
I choke back a sob, and repeat.
My arms are vermilion and dark, but I don’t care.
Nothing matters anymore.
I have no life. No child. No husband.
I have desolation and emptiness. If only my ice didn’t melt...
My head fogs, my stomach clenches, and my body aches. I take the blade and put it to my thigh.
With as much strength as I can muster, I carve a little heart, and before I know it, blackness is welcoming me.