Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“We will. Until then, you’re coming with us,” he says.
I struggle from his grip as he pulls me upright and pushes me toward the car. “Why are you worried about me? You should be sending someone to search for her. See if she’s alive.”
Please be alive. Please be alive.
“I assure you that the Recovery Unit is already headed down there, kid.”
“Recovery? What the fuck is recovery?” I ask.
He shoves me inside the car and gets in, maneuvering through the parked cars before he answers. “This ain’t no search and rescue operation, boy. This is recovery. Dozen people each year jump from that bridge since the day construction was finished and even a few before. Wanna know how many regret that decision?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Don’t know. We can’t ask them.” His eyes meet mine in the rearview. “They’re all dead.”
“I didn’t push her,” I say over the pain of hope being crushed like a garbage compactor on my heart.
“Then, what did happen?”
As much as I told myself I wasn’t up there to kill myself, the truth I’ve been ignoring since I wandered onto the bridge hits me and hits me hard.
I was going to jump.
I look up at the bridge, now in the distance, a million miles away.
“She…she saved my life,” I say out loud.
“Then, make the best of it, kid,” the cop says. “After you get out of jail.”
Make the best of it.
I have a second chance, and she doesn’t. And it’s only because she’d awakened something inside of me that was either dead or lying dormant.
A will to live.
I make a vow to myself. I’m not going to go through the motions of life anymore.
I’m going to live enough for the both of us.
Or die fuckin’ trying.
Chapter Three
KEVIN
ONE YEAR LATER…
I could live the rest of my life without remembering what the fuck happened to me while I was unconscious and being raped or molested, but the shitty thing about the human mind is that it almost never does what you want it to do. In fact, when you purposely beg it to suppress shit, it has a way of telling you to go fuck yourself while randomly showing you flashes of things you never wanted to see. Usually, it’s the most horrible shit at the most inconvenient time.
For example, when you’re fucking a girl.
Or, at least, when you’re trying to fuck a girl.
Sex, of all motherfucking things, seems to be the one and only trigger for these memories to come charging through my brain. Every time I’m about to come, it fires off round after round of unwanted memory bullets into my fucking skull.
Which is what it’s doing right now.
I’m with a girl. She’s a few years older than me and pretty enough. Her hips are curvy, and her tits are full and bouncy as she breathes deeply with desire and anticipation.
She spreads her legs, opening herself to let me in. I sit back on my legs and freeze as my chest begins to tighten. Hard as concrete, I stare at her pussy, both wanting to be inside, and despising what I know will come when I do.
She looks up at me and smiles, mistaking my hesitation for nerves. She reaches for my cock and pulls me by my dick. I fall on my forearms and hover above her. She strokes my shaft up and down. My body becomes impossibly hot. Not with desire. With fear. Sweat.
Repulsion.
I’m dizzy and trembling, but I want this.
Get a fucking grip, Kevin.
“Fuck me,” she whispers, and I cringe as the tip of my cock slips over the entrance to her soaked pussy. It feels good. So good, but it hurts all the same. My chest. My muscles. I’m locked in a war between body and mind, and all I want to do is stick a fucking knife through my ear. She groans with exaggerated pleasure. “Your cock is so huge.”
Yeah, blessed with a huge cock and the inability to come without vomiting after. The universe’s idea of a sick fucking joke.
Her words are meant as a seduction, but they feel like anything but. My stomach rolls, and I turn my face to the side, shutting my eyes as hard as I can while swallowing down the bile rising in my throat.
You can do this, I tell myself. Don’t be a pussy. Just fucking do it. It’s normal. YOU are normal. Snap the fuck out of it. Push all thoughts out. Don’t let them in. Don’t let them…
Too late.
The resounding answer from the universe is an assault of the many different voices from my past.
“Just do what I want, and I won’t hurt you. He just likes to watch,” a scratchy feminine voice warns.
“I’ll pay you. Let me watch as you make yourself come,” a man’s eager voice snakes into my ears.