the shambles, there’s a required clean-up. There’s no simple fix in starting over.
Not without a hefty cost.
Not without giving up the possibility of recovery.
Not without accepting you’ve really and truly fucked up.
And that’s what’s truly intoxicating about pain.
You can realize it, mend it, and even overcome it. But if you’re like me, you love it, live for it, and thrive off its nasty bite, hoping in the end, you suffer endlessly.
Forever damaged.
Forever lost.
Forever empty.
- Joey
Chapter Nineteen
Three Years Later
Toby
It’s been three years.
Long, hard, life-altering years.
I’m married.
I hate her.
She hates me, too.
Maybe this is my penance, my dues for being a piece of shit and trying to steal my brother’s wife. I deserve her hate and give it back tenfold. Now, it’s our routine. I’m not sure what life would be without our constant bickering.
Peaceful, maybe. Lonely. Lifeless, definitely.
She deserves more, but making her suffer with me has become a game, and she hasn’t walked away either. Maybe she lives for it, too.
Hollow Ridge.
I’m back here.
My home.
Or rather, it was, until I screwed everything up.
We all make choices. Some that burn us, some that light the way, and others that have no reaction in either direction. My choices—mine and Lo’s—ruined my life. Yeah, being a willing participant is what brought me to this moment. I wouldn’t even change it for the world. That is, unless if I could change from ever meeting her.
She gave me a great life. Up until the end, that is.
We wouldn’t have worked out. No matter how much I wanted it, no matter how hard I worked for it, and no matter how many memories we shared.
Her and Jase were fated.
It was stupid of me to think I could come between that. Be what she needed, what I wanted, and still make her as happy as him.
It wasn’t meant to be for us as much as I tried.
We were circumstance, and they were destiny.
No matter how much I repeat that, acknowledge it, and realize it, the pain doesn’t falter. My pursuit for the connection I felt with Lo hasn’t come. Maybe it won’t—maybe it wasn’t meant to be in the first place.
I try and try and try for love. I did. I do. Yet I can’t find it. I can’t find her; I can’t find the other half of my soul.
Until I did.
She sets my soul aflame and burns me, leaving me with scars on every inch of my skin. With her, the pain doesn’t ease. It cuts and digs, burying itself inside every crevasse my body offers. My new love—turned hate—absolutely devitalized me.
My run, like every day since coming back, is tremulous and exhaustive. My heart pounds in sync with the soles of my shoes smacking the gravel road. It’s like the patter needs to be in unison or I’ll collapse. I’m doing too much, I know I am, yet I can’t stop. It’s like my newest binge. Instead of booze or drugs, it’s exhaustion. A high I can only get from nearly crumbling. Though that doesn’t stop me from voraciously swallowing every drop of Jameson we own.
Today, I don’t stop at the coffee shop. I can’t. It’s burdensome on my heart, and no matter how much I’d love the extra energy, it’s too painful. Every time while passing it, her eyes haunt me, the child’s face haunts me, and then the hatred for my wife grows more cancerous.
That shop holds horrors and memories like a personal scrapbook of my past on constant display. I can’t count how many times we experienced a smile, a laugh, or a small touch in that little place. There’s no way to explain how it retains all the good and bad and in between. The only thing I can offer is that it was once my home away from home, but no resurfaced trigger is worth the brown liquid gold.
As I run past it, my stomach feels empty of food and everything altogether. It’s not like me to eat anymore. If I didn’t keep up my protein, exercise, and water intake, I’d be scrawny. It’s unhealthy what I do to myself, dragging my body through as much as it can take, and even sometimes going past what it should be capable of.
My life’s a mess.
My heart’s non-existent.
My soul was lost long ago.
Worst of all, I no longer have any fucks to give.
My legs ache as my body pushes me toward Hollow Hills on the coast of the town. It’s where I’m staying. It’s not home, but after selling the house we