Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 102708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Mostly in the form of her.
I bit back the tears, hiding behind the pain I’d been used to all my life.
With glossy eyes, I watched them wheel her into the ER, paging the on-call doctor. One of the nurses told me to have a seat in the waiting area and they’d update me as soon as they could.
I sat in one of the cold chairs at the hospital, doing exactly that—waiting. In a place I’d come to know, remembering all the times we were there for her or Joe. From getting their stomachs pumped to finding them passed out on the street, the list piled up after a while.
My stomach was in knots.
I growled with frustration, abruptly standing to my feet and practically crushing my phone in my hand. I started pacing the small waiting room, trying to govern my plaguing thoughts and reel in my emotions that were killing me inside. At this point, I was too far gone.
As if on cue, Isla and Kraven walked into the hospital, holding hands, and I quickly wondered who reached for who, but they both appeared as broken as I felt, so I didn’t say anything.
“Julius, right?” a man dressed in scrubs and a white coat greeted, pulling me away from my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I responded, already aware of where this was going.
The rest played out in slow motion.
For a few seconds, Kraven and Isla mirrored my stare, though it wasn’t the same. She might have put the needle into her arm, but I was the reason she did it.
Every decision had a consequence, and this one was mine.
Except I never imagined mine would lead to killing my mom.
CHAPTER
FORTY-FIVE
JULIUS
I sat in my car with a bottle of bourbon in my grasp, staring at a house that held so many ghosts.
Sitting.
Waiting.
Fucking numb.
I was powerless, unable to stop myself from witnessing the reality of what our lives had become. Feelings I didn’t know I felt until that very moment.
Sadness.
Confusion.
Abandonment.
Yet again…
The emotions were endless, piling up, heavy and daunting. Taking a deep, reassuring breath, I inhaled through my nose and exhaled out of my mouth, trying to shake off the bullshit they evoked.
My life had turned into one big slow motion. The past twenty-four hours were a blur of torment, shame, regret…
After the confirmation that she overdosed on heroin and that she would be cremated by the state since we didn’t have the funds for a funeral, I felt even guiltier. I had the money to bury her, but I couldn’t bring myself to offer. She’d already taken so much from us. It was our funds.
We needed it more than she did.
One thought led to the next, making me sick to my stomach. The longer I sat there, the further my resentment and anger grew.
I didn’t move.
I didn’t speak.
Nothing.
I was empty.
A shell of who I was before all this.
She was dead.
Gone.
Did she go to hell? Where do moms go when they give up on their families?
“Mom…” I muttered, hearing it out loud for the first time in what felt like forever.
Seconds, minutes, hours could have flown by, and not once did I look away, openly showing my agony and dismay at the house Isla turned into a home, only for it to turn into hell.
Instead of getting answers, I locked up my emotions like they never existed to begin with. Getting out of my car, I wanted to get lost and not found. My mind was a jumbled mess of what the fucks. My head was pounding so hard I could barely see straight. It felt like a hammer was beating into my skull.
A hammer she was still holding.
I drove around aimlessly for a few hours, drinking away my sorrows before I snapped out of whatever stupor I was in. The last thing I needed was to get a DUI, and I’d only just bought this car. It was past midnight when I walked through the door.
The whiskey was long gone, and all I had left was my misery.
The house was dark, as if the lights had never been turned on. Kraven wasn’t home, which only meant he was off somewhere getting in trouble, dealing with our mother’s overdose, probably in the same way I was at that moment.
“Get your shit together,” I uttered to myself, wanting to wash away the day and the booze.
I made my way into my bedroom and stopped dead in my tracks when I saw her.
Sleeping.
Peaceful.
Fucking breathtaking.
I was beyond grateful for her. Especially then.
Her head was on my pillow, wrapped in a throw blanket she’d bought me for my eighteenth birthday. There was no resisting the urge to feel her beneath my body. Careful not to wake her, I lay on top of her and caged her in with my arms around her face. She fit seamlessly against my chest.
“Isla,” I whispered, faintly rubbing my lips on her mouth.