Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
When he looks up at me, my heart stops. The boy’s anger turns to something else, and his eyes narrow.
“Who are you?” he asks me. My heart beats fast and I don’t know how to answer him. I don’t remember who I am, I only remember my name.
“John,” I tell him.
The boy sniffles and looks down at the dead man in the dirt and then back at me, nodding. “I’m not John,” he says and it confuses me.
“My name’s Jay.”
Chapter 26
Robin
My heart is racing and won’t stop; it’s pounding so hard it hurts. My fingers tremble as I push the bathroom door open slowly. It creaks noisily, and I can’t even breathe.
I’m afraid of what I’ll find on the other side.
I heard the screaming, the fighting. The shattering of glass.
There’s no light on in the bathroom, but the stray light streaming in from the hallway reflects off the shards of mirror that litter the floor.
The door only stops when the knob hits the wall, and I stand there frozen in the doorway.
The cuts on his face and hands, the blood that drips down and covers his hand will forever be etched into my memory.
But the sight of him, the man I love so deeply and who I’m desperate to heal all the way down to his very soul, is wretched and it cracks my heart in two.
Sitting on the edge of the tub, his hands cover his face as he’s hunched over. But he’s alive. Wounded deeply, but still breathing.
“Jay,” I whisper his name, terrified I’ve said the wrong one. I wait with bated breath, the pain in my chest only intensifying as he sits still, ignoring me and making me question what to do.
Call for an ambulance. It’s obvious. He needs it. A psychotic break isn’t something I can handle on my own.
I take a hesitant step forward, not daring to flick on the light switch. I’m only wearing a pair of socks, but I keep to the right, and gently push the sharp pieces of glass out of my way as I walk toward him. I just need to hold him. I need him to know that it’s alright. It doesn’t matter how bad it gets, it will always be alright.
The glass clinks as I kick a chunk to the left and take another cautious step toward him.
Finally, he peeks up at me. My body freezes, and I try to figure out if he’s there. If Jay is present, or if John is the one sitting in front of me.
I can usually tell by the way he looks at me, but now they both know.
My heart sputters at the pain swirling in his light gray eyes. How his lip twitches with the need to frown and he shakes his head, looking away from me.
“It didn’t go well,” he speaks just above a murmur and looks away from me, staring at the wall as he lets out a heavy breath. I watch as he tries to relax in front of me, shaking his shoulders and brushing his fingers through his hair. Small pieces of glass tinkle as they drop into the porcelain tub.
Jay.
“You should give me a minute,” Jay finally says as he stands tall and towers over me.
“I can help,” I offer, but he steps around me, walking to the sink with the glass crunching beneath his boots.
“There’s glass,” Jay points out the obvious and then stares pointedly at my feet before turning on the faucet.
“I can get shoes,” I say weakly. My thoughts are a blur, and his casual demeanor is not at all what I expected. “Can I just clean the glass from your hands so you don’t make it worse?” I ask him. My fingers are itching to comfort him. To help him. I’m terrified he’ll push me away.
“No,” Jay says dismissively, running his hand under the water and looking up to a chunk of mirror still left on the wall. “What happened?” I ask him in a whisper. He looks at me over his shoulder and I think he’s going to tell me to just leave, but thankfully he doesn’t.
“John doesn’t want to believe he did that to you.”
I stand there numb, the tips of my fingers tingling. “Did what… did what to me?” I ask. Although I shake my head, there’s nothing wrong. “You did nothing wrong.”
Jay’s lips part and a huff of a humorless laugh leaves him. He dries his hands on the towel, looking straight ahead.
“The day you left is what he’s thinking about,” he says and his voice is deathly low.
Tears sting at my eyes as I say, “Forgive me.” I’ll never forgive myself, but please, please I need him to know I regret it with everything in me.
“There’s nothing for me to forgive, little bird. You did what I told you to do.” He cups my jaw in his strong hand and I lean into his touch, desperate for it. For anything he can give me. “But John hasn’t forgiven anything. He hasn’t even begun to forgive himself.”