Page 78 of Free to Live

No.The word echoes through my brain. I brace for what he’s about to say even though in my heart, I already know.

“It was suicide. The parents are devastated—just devastated. Their whole lives are shattered.” His dark blue eyes snap toward mine. “What in the hell possesses a kid at that age to think the world is so bad that taking their life is the answer?”

And here it is. The reason why despite my burgeoning hope tonight this would never be able to work out between us. “Because when you know the breath you’re taking right now is immeasurably better than the pain you’ll endure by taking the next, suicide can seem like the only answer,” I whisper. “That’s when the pills don’t seem so hard to swallow, the knife may not be as hard to handle, and the barrel isn’t scary to look into.”

The only sound in the room is the buzzing from Grace’s monitor. Even as I know my judgment is coming, I still stand. Because after everything, I’ve learned something these last few months. I may always have my past, but I am no longer that woman. I am stronger than I gave myself credit for and have as much a right to be loved as anyone else.

“No,” his voice rasps against my skin, almost grating against it.

“You don’t know everything about me,” I counter quietly.

He strides forward and yanks me into his body. “For God’s sake, Holly…” I cut him off even as I struggle to pull away.

“It’s mine to share when I wish to share it and who I wish to share it with,” I snarl at him, breathing heavily because, despite everything, his nearness is drawing me in to want to burrow closer.

“Tonight, I saw a boy finish the job with a knife. I couldn’t save Mary, I couldn’t save him, but I sure as hell can protect…” His voice dies out.

“Who? Grace? Why did my wanting to kill myself after a lifetime of abuse mean I could suddenly harm your child?” The rasp of my words hangs in between us, leaving everything still.

I’m frozen where I stand, my lips parted. I hear a whispered “Shit,” even as his arms loosen. The thoughts that have buried themselves into my soul rise to the surface, pounding one after the other as each chamber of my heart moves.

Tainted.

Blood.

Unwanted.

Alone.

Slowly, I break out of Joe’s embrace and grab my bag from the floor. I scurry toward the door as quickly as I can. I can hear his footsteps behind me. Just a few more feet. I silently plead with any god or goddess listening to let me out before he can reach me—before I break down.

I’m denied.

Even as my eyes begin to flood with tears, Joe’s whispering, “I didn’t mean it to sound like that. God, I didn’t… Please look at me.”

I shake my head, unwilling to comply. But I’ll give him the explanation he feels he deserves.

“I was fifteen. The night before I tried, I overheard my father tell my stepmother the next day he planned on using whatever he had to in order to make me take my first customer.” My voice is dull, flat.

“What about the police? Couldn’t you go to them?” Joe asks me quietly.

Turning my tear-streaked face up to him, I ask dully, “Who do you think my first customer was supposed to be? They were already clients of my stepmother’s.”

Joe’s head whips to the side like I slapped him.

“I made my choice. I had the gun to my mouth when Maria intervened.”

Joe interrupts, “Was she a friend?”

I shake my head. “She was my stepmother. She was tired of being the only breadwinner in the family.” I take an enormous breath and continue whispering, “The gun went off.”

“You’re still here.” He reaches out to touch my hair, but I step away.

“Maria isn’t.” I let that knowledge settle into his mind. When the shock and horror appear on his face, I shut down. Completely. “What happened next isn’t just a story about me, and I won’t share it. Not now. Maybe not ever. Don’t ask me if I regret it. Looking back, the answer is simple. No.”

Joe rears back. I’ve surprised him with my vehemence.

“I survived, Joe, and two monsters are dead—my stepmother and my father.” At his confusion, I give in enough to explain, “My father went to prison and died there.” I struggle to find the right words for what I’m about to say. “But I knew my price for my life would be high.”