AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She’s the total opposite of him, but she saw some form of good in him. The more I think about it, the more I wonder if he manipulated her too.
Either way, she saw something special in that man. Something I never seemed to find myself.
My hand closes in a fist on top of the black marble headstone. My eyes land on the words below his name.
‘Beloved husband and father’
It’s all bullshit. He wasn’t either of those things when he died.
More like fucking jackass and power-hungry dickhead.
All he cared about was his money and reputation. By some fucked up miracle, after growing up under his control, I still wanted to be an attorney. Although if I hadn’t, he wouldn’t have cared, I’d still be one. That’s how controlling he was. The only person he cared about was himself, and he wanted his reputation to be perfect. Perfect career, perfect wife, perfect son.
“Why?” I act like he’ll hear me from Hell. I get louder, “Why couldn’t you love me like a normal father? You were such an asshole up until the day you died. Nothing I ever did was good enough for you. Why the fuck did you make me like this? Why did you make me so untrusting? So unloving. Such a monster.”
My screams seem to bounce off his pristine gravestone, echoing around me. “It’s because of you that I’m like this. I can’t trust blindly. I have to be in fucking control of everything. I can’t just be normal. You made me into you. I’m you… an unlovable asshole.”
My fist slams into the stone over and over as I take my anger out on him. Pain erupts through my hand, but I keep going. My knuckles crunch as I land my last punch on my father’s headstone, letting the blood drip down the side.
All the emotions leave my body, giving them over to my dead fucking father.How pathetic.I cradle my bleeding hand against my chest and fall to my knees. Too bad I’ll never get the chance to say it all to his face.
I’m fucked up, but it’s not his problem now. He got to run away from all his troubles. He’ll never know just how shitty of a father he was. Or maybe he knew and didn’t care that he was a self-centered piece of garbage who never truly cared about me. He got off easily. But I don’t get that luxury. I have to lie awake at night thinking about everything I keep fucking up.
“Because of you, asshole, an innocent girl is in danger.” I know he wouldn’t have approved of Tara. She’s too poor for his liking. She’s got a mouth on her that can’t be controlled, and he would’ve tried to force her into submission. “She doesn’t deserve this.”
Because of him, I took that asshole's word at face value. Because of him, my wife is probably being tortured repeatedly every damn day.
Drugged. Beaten. Raped.
My stomach twists and I heave over my father’s grave. Guilt seeps through my pores so much that I’m trying to push the blame off on a dead guy…but it’s my fault. I can’t even really blame him anymore like I want to. I’m in control of my actions, I could change, but I still feel like I have to live up to his expectations. For once in my life, I have to take responsibility for my fuck up.
I was stupid.
I pushed her away.
I led her right into his trap. I’m the reason she’s living her nightmare right now.
Me. Me. Me.
It’s up to me to change. It’s up to me to not be the monster my father was. It’s up to me to be the man Tara deserves.
I need to find her. I need to get her out of there and handle the problem. Then I should probably let her go. I put her in this situation. I’m a selfish asshole and am no good for her. She’ll be better off without me. She could be happy if I just left her alone and let her be. That’s what I should do, but I won’t.
I’ve always been greedy, and I want her in my house, in my arms, and in my fucking bed.
I’ll do anything to have Tara look at me the way she did in the car two days ago. With so much hope and excitement.
I’ll win you back, Tara.
Pounding echoes through my head the longer I sit here staring blankly at the computer screen in front of me. Rush frantically types away on his computer, tension racking through his body. The clicking sounds of the keys are intensified by my hangover, reminding me of how badly I’ve fucked up.
While I’ve been getting drunk off my ass trying to wash away the pain, he’s been working his ass off trying to find our girl. He obviously hasn’t slept in days. Dark circles rim his bloodshot eyes, facial hair covers his face from not shaving in two days, and his curls are in disarray like he’s run his hands through them over and over again. He looks like he’s going through hell, but he keeps fighting. He’s still trying for her while I’ve been a useless, fucking mess. Even when she needs me most, I fuck up. I couldn’t even stay sober long enough to be valuable and help find her.
I promised Nix I’d sober up, and that’s what I’ve been trying to do. I’m hungover as hell. Honestly, I might be a bit drunk still, considering my head is spinning, and my words are still slurring. Although, I haven’t had a drop of alcohol in a few hours. I didn’t immediately stop after he told me to because I downed as much as I could in the shower, but I’ve cut back on drowning myself in the clear liquid since then. The bottle of vodka sits heavy in my hand as I roll it between my fingers, but I haven’t cracked it open since I’ve been sitting in this room, even though I’m itching to.
When I came in here, Rush looked from me to the bottle, then back to me. He didn’t say a word, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes, begging me not to sip the harsh liquid down. Begging me to stay strong for Tara. He won’t verbalize it, but I know. I can tell he hates it, but he won’t try to stop me. It’s the only thing keeping me from entirely breaking, giving me the reprieve I need from this madness. Something deep in his chocolate eyes tells me he understands exactly what I’m going through.
“Find anything yet?” Fuck. My words are definitely still slurred, but at least I can see straight this time. Maybe I should take another cold shower. I sure as hell still smell like a fucking distillery as the alcohol continues to seep from my pores.
