Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Maybe I’d have to be a man to understand. Is it simply their biological urge to get as much pussy as possible? Could it really be something that simple that caused Parker to cheat on me? I guess he was actually cheating on Janice and turned me into his mistress, but that’s just a technicality at this point. In the end, he played us both.
I swallow hard and get up from bed to get a glass of water. I barely even recognize myself in the mirror. I look like a battered, disheveled version of my former self. My hair is a dry, tangled mess, and there are big purple bags under my eyes. If anyone needs an actress to play an ugly witch in a horror movie, I’m your girl. And it’s all because I don’t have him…
No. Don’t go there, Ali.
I have to force myself not to miss him. Not to want him. He betrayed me. He lied to me. He told me things about himself to make me trust him so he could hide the fact that he was in a relationship with another woman.
Was he ever honest about anything he said?
Maybe he was never a hitman with the Mafia. Maybe he was just a bouncer at a club somewhere and liked tattoos and decided to get a corporate security job because it paid better. It’s all so confusing now. I’m barely keeping it together.
I feel a pain in my hands and look down and realize I’ve been standing here gripping the corners of the sink so tightly that my knuckles are white and my fingers are red. With an embarrassed sigh, I let go, walk back over to the bed, and collapse onto my back. The stained, cracked ceiling hangs over me like it’s taunting me.
How could I have been so stupid? How could I ever believe that a man who stalked me and broke into my apartment could ever turn out to be a good guy? The truth is, I’m just as twisted as he is. I saw what I wanted to, instead of the liar I gave myself over to. Still, knowing that does nothing to ease the pain I’m feeling now.
The last two weeks have been nothing but torture. The pain is unbearable.
I thought it would have been easier. After all, I left him before he could leave me.
It makes sense, given what I’ve been through. But did I make the right decision? Should I have given Parker a chance to explain? Maybe there’s another side of the story that I missed out on by acting so quickly. For crying out loud, I don’t know Janice. What reason do I have to believe her?
So she knows his address. So what? She works with him. She could have found out through the office. Or maybe she’s been stalking him too, just waiting for the right moment to strike. And then, when she saw him with me, she just snapped.
“That would make sense…” I say to myself out loud. But am I just being optimistic?
I glance over at my phone and bite my lower lip.
I blocked Parker’s number before I even got my things out of my apartment, and I’ve had him blocked since. And if I’m being truthful with myself, it’s been a nightly struggle not to unblock him and see if he calls me.
I’m sure as hell not going to call him first.
Every day I leave for work, I keep expecting to hear his footsteps behind me. To feel his arms wrap around my waist as he chuckles victoriously into my ear and tells me he’s been stalking me since I left home and that I’ll never be able to get away from him. That we’re bound to each other.
But every day I’m disappointed.
Every day I am alone.
Why do I even want that to happen? Parker pulled a gun on me. Threatened me with a knife twice. If anything, I should have called the police on him weeks ago.
But I didn’t.
I sank deeper into his world and gave myself over to him.
And I was happy. I was more than happy. I was overjoyed. Wrapped in layers of sunshine and bliss like a butterfly ready to emerge anew from its chrysalis. But now that I’ve retreated back into myself, all I feel is a cold, dark void of sorrow and vacancy. I have to face facts.
I love Parker.
No matter how hard I try to deny it, that’s the truth.
But does he love me? Did he ever?
I glance back over at my phone again. It’s like it’s pulling at me–daring me to unblock him. That deep ache in my chest I felt for him hasn’t gone away. It hasn’t even begun to subside. If anything, it’s grown stronger, like a hook embedded in my heart, tied to a long, invisible line that’s constantly reeling me in like a fish thrashing wildly, fighting to escape.