Total pages in book: 196
Estimated words: 180438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 902(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 601(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 180438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 902(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 601(@300wpm)
I kept my head down as we left because there was nothing more fun than reading everyone’s thoughts on what I was feeling or doing. No doubt the headlines will read that I was bereft and heartbroken or some other such crap because they’d been conditioned for the last five years to believe that I was deeply in love with that snake. It was for this reason that I wore her blanket.
I wanted her to remember when she read those inevitable words that it was her I was thinking of and no one else. I see the necessity for me to keep things as they are for the sake of the young girls we were trying to save, but I find myself caught in the middle again because I can’t explain to her why I’ll be doing certain things and it’s starting to be a problem for me.
There’s no guarantee that everything will be tied up neatly and wrapped up in a bow in a month’s time, and the longer this goes on, the longer the public still believes that I’m married, the more problems I foresee. It’s what I deserve, though, I guess, my penance for the hurt I’d caused. It shouldn’t be easy because she deserves so much better than easy.
She’ll never know just how much I appreciate her giving me another chance or how much I fear making a wrong move again. I’ve only been clean for a little while, but I have the last five years as a reminder of why I should never let myself get that bad again. The thought of touching anything stronger than Benadryl makes me numb, and I can’t help but wonder how things had happened as fast as they did.
I’m plagued with long-buried memories almost every second of the day now. Things that seem so out of sync with who I am, who I’ve always wanted to be. I was only at my best when I was with Elena; I know that, and I’m sure the whole world knows it too. When I see pictures of myself going back to the day of the wedding until I got my act together, I can barely recognize myself.
I looked like I aged ten years or more, and though they were spreading some bullshit about me being clean, anyone with eyes could see that I was anything but. There were write-ups about me being ill, but I don’t remember any of it. I do recall a time about two years in when I wanted to make a break for it.
The memories are a bit muddy, but I’m almost certain that I had that conversation with Matt, and it was not long after if the publications are to be believed, that I came down with this mysterious illness. As we drove through the streets in some kind of covert manner that you only see in the movies to escape the paparazzi who could never get enough, it struck me that I had a lot to be grateful to these guys for. And to think it was all because three little girls were fans of ours.
The irony is that we ended up here because of another fan, one who had obviously gone off the rails or had always been that way. I tried to remember anything about Janie that I’d liked, one thing that stood out for me, and could find nothing, so how did I end up with her? I know about the threats against Elena and all of what came with that, but how did I end up in the same vicinity as Janie, and why can’t I remember?
“You need to learn how to hide your thoughts better, kid.”
“Hmm? What?” I looked to my left, where Lyon had his head back, and his eyes closed.
“You’re worrying again. Nothing good ever comes from worrying, and neither does looking back. You fucked up; you had help doing it, sure, but at the end of the day, it was your choices that made it easy for them to get the drop on you.”
“There’s no way to go back and change it, but you can do better going forward. Once you make up your mind to do that shit, you stick to it no matter what. If you don’t think you can make it, walk away now. Don’t tell yourself you love her and yet be willing to hurt her; love doesn’t hurt like that. It can hurt like a son of a bitch, but not like that.”
“It’s only supposed to hurt when the one you love is in pain or in some kind of danger, shit like that. But this hurting the one you love shit is for assholes. You’re not an asshole, are you? And before you answer that, my kid probably has this shit bugged down to the rims, so be very careful what you say. If you get on her bad side, I’m moving out of the way because I do not fuck with Hitler’s youth.”