On hands and knees, I crawl hurriedly down the hall and into my bathroom where I kick the door shut behind me. The tile in here bruises my knees but I don’t slow down to avoid the injury. It’s nothing really, more bruises. Maybe with enough battering they’ll look as they did that day, not just in my mind but in reality as well. I shove the toilet bowl lid up and out of the way as I expel the contents of my stomach into the water.
It’s not always this bad, not anymore at least. I was getting better, stronger, and less dependent on Ian. I was finally in a place where I could watch him leave and instead of the sickening panic, I’d just cry until my eyes hurt. I don’t even try to hide the tears anymore.
“Want me to call him?” Dad asks from the other side of the closed door. Dad knows how I feel about Ian. He sees how Ian helps me work through the breakdowns which is the only reason, in my estimation, that he even allows a member of Forsaken into his house every morning.
“No,” I say as loud as I can. Ian said he wouldn’t be by tomorrow morning. That he won’t disappear but that he’s got club business. I know what that means—he’s tired of babysitting me and taking care of me like I’m an infant.
I push off from the toilet as quickly as I can and clamber to my room in search of a pair of shoes. Any shoes will do. I just have to get out of here. I grab the first pair I can find—a new set of runners that I haven’t touched since last summer when I thought I might take up running one day. I shove my socked feet into the runners, and lace them up as quickly and as tightly as I can before sprinting from my room and rushing down the hall to the front door. I don’t see Mom or Dad as I fling the front door open and rush onto the front lawn. The cool spring breeze feels wonderful on my heated skin. I don’t spend enough time outside. Somewhere in the house Mom is asking where I am and instead of telling her a truth I can’t explain, I head for the street on hurried feet and don’t slow at the curb, instead opting to take off in the direction Ian’s left. Soon, my lungs are burning and the coastal breeze is doing nothing to keep me cool. My body is heated and my feet ache in the unfamiliar set of runners.
Watch, you fucking slut!
The voice propels me forward at a speed I didn’t know I was capable of. My strawberry blonde hair flies around my face, blocking my view in parts as I race toward the edge of town. I strain to get oxygen into my lungs and the muscles of my little used legs ache under the punishment I’m delivering them. It hurts, the exertion of pushing myself to a limit I’m unfamiliar with. Everything in me hurts, both physically and emotionally and it never gets better—except when Ian is around. Only then do I feel less dirty, and broken, and hopeless. But Ian’s not an option anymore, so I keep running. I run past the library, and further away from town, and into the outlying neighborhoods with larger homes and better manicured lawns, and better concealed secrets. The faux perfection churns my stomach so I keep going despite the painful ache that’s set in. I just want out of this—out of here—and to keep running until I find a place where I can feel some semblance of normal. Maybe it doesn’t exist.
Only, it does with Ian. I have to try to get better on my own though, without him. I don’t want to, but it looks like I don’t have a choice so I keep running until I literally fall into a tree on the side of Sherwood Road and scream and cry and kick at the goddamn thing until I’m exhausted and I head back for the house.
12 months to Mancuso’s downfall
Chapter 1
FIFTY-NINE DAYS AND counting since Ian’s stopped coming by every day. Fifty-nine mornings I’ve been left to wonder where he is, what he’s doing, and if he’s drinking his disgusting black coffee. I don’t know why he punishes himself with black coffee, nor do I know why he’s punishing me by staying away from me. All I really know is that it’s painful for him to be so distant.
My only relief is my daily run. I make it as painful as possible, pushing myself to my limit every time. I haven’t reached my limit until I’m close to pitching myself in front of the next vehicle that passes to stop the ache in my muscles. It used to be a few miles before the punishment got to be too much to bear and I’d be doubled over on the side of the road flipping out because I’d maxed out my ability to torture myself. It was always so much easier to hit that high with a needle in my arm or a bottle to my lips. Now, though, I can make it around Ruby and Jim’s property, which is an eight-mile loop from start to finish. It’s the only thing I have now since Ian’s left me.
I want to ask Holly about him, but I don’t dare. She’s got a big mouth and is likely to tell Grady I’ve asked about Ian, and the next thing I know, Ian will be showing up out of obligation rather than because he wants to. As it is, he had promised to take me to the hospital when Nic gave birth, and he didn’t. He probably got busy, but still.