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“Months ago. It was months ago when Charlotte wanted to leave our life behind. My mother wanted to do the same. She wanted to divorce my father and hated the danger. I told him because I thought it would help him let her go. That’s the only reason I told him Salvatore.” I reach for his hand but he holds mine. “My dad blames himself for Mom’s death. He thinks she jumped because it was the only way she could get away from him. He didn’t want to let her go.” I have to stop when my breath catches.
“I understand baby. I understand.”
“Thank you. I held on to that for so long. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell you. It was all so horrible.”
“It’s okay baby.”
“I found her in the pool then I found the note. But… Salvatore, you saw what she wrote on the back of the picture. It was the day before she died. The suicide note I found suggests she killed herself but what if that’s not true either? What if someone hurt her?”
He intensifies his stare on me and presses his lips together.
“Salvatore it’s suspicious as fuck, don’t you think? It looks suspicious, please tell me it does. That’s what my heart tells me.” I break down again and as the tears flow my heart and my instincts continue to tell me something doesn’t feel right.
* * *
Morning comes.
I don’t remember how I got in bed.
I wake up and roll onto my side. The aroma of coffee and pastries hangs in the air.
My head feels light as I sit up and my eyes are puffy.
I remember now. I cried myself to sleep.
I cried myself to sleep and I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes.
I glance at the clock on the wall and see it’s close to eleven. I can’t remember when last I slept in so late.
I’m an early riser and even when I’m with Salvatore the latest we get up is eight or nine.
It’s nearly lunchtime and definitely unlike me to miss a big chunk of the day.
Sliding off the bed, I run a hand through my hair smoothing it down. I catch a glimpse of myself in the long mirrors of the wardrobe and flinch. I look like a troll with red eyes. It’s definitely not the look to go for when in the presence of the guy you’re dating.
I was about to go to the bathroom and splash my face with cold water when he walked in. Shirtless, with muscles and tats on show looking like he just walked out of a fantasy.
He looks at me and it’s like he doesn’t see the mess I am inside and out.
Offering a small smile he lowers and kisses me, but instinct makes me back away despite my low mood because I always like to brush my teeth and look semi decent before I kiss him.
“Baby, what?” he muses.
“I’m not kissing you with morning mouth and puffy eyes.” I try to move away but he catches me and pulls me back to him.
I try to smile and be as playful as I usually am with him but I can’t find myself today.
“You’re perfect. You taste and smell like vanilla honey. You know like those buns your grandma makes at Easter.” His smile widens revealing perfect white teeth.
“Her sweet on sex buns?” That makes me chuckle.
“Yeah them.”
My poor grandmother must have thought I was weirder than usual when I rushed down the stairs yesterday leaving all the recipe books behind.
I took the picture and told her something came up and I had to go.
Those were the most words I formed then I left, went home, realized I couldn’t stay home with the torture in my mind then came here.
