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Chapter 18
Kaleb
New York traffic could suck an egg.
Seriously fuck this city and its millions of pedestrians that insist on crowding the road at all hours of the day.
For once I wish the city that never sleeps would take a Xanax and pass the heck out.
I wasn't getting there fast enough.
Damn it. I swear before slamming down on the gas pedal of my Ford 150. The engine roars to life and I think I might just duct tape my timberlands to the gas pedal.
Why must the little suburban castle be so far from the damn city?
I swear to god, I hate that black mansion more and more with every day that passes. I could make a fucking list of all the shit I hated about that sack of bricks.
Exhibit A: it was forty-five minutes from the heart of the city.
Forty-five fucking minutes.
Ugh, I wanted to tear my hair out as I slammed once more on the gas pedal, passing an elderly grandma in a honda civic and taking out a tree branch in the process.
Fear threatened to eat me alive but I buried it down. Burned that shit into the ground until I couldn't feel anything except my foot on the pedal and my hand on the wheel.
He knew about her. He touched her. That was two people who had threatened what belonged to me and it would be the last thing he ever did if there was even so much as a hair disarrayed on Blondie's head.
Approximately thirty-five minutes later (challenge annihilated GPS), and having already violated about sixty different traffic laws, I figured double parking outside of Blondie's apartment didn't count.
Crime boss getaway free card.
Slamming my door shut, I nearly ran up the fire escape lining Rose's crappy orange chicken-scented building. My feet were eating up the stairs two at a time in my haste to reach her.
She had to be ok. She had to be otherwise I’d -
I don't bother finishing that thought and drowning in the loss of sanity that would go with it. Slamming open Blondies window, (which I made a mental note to fortify the fuck out of considering the ease in which it cracked open), I slip inside only to have my heart drop to the fucking floor.
The apartment was destroyed.
Paint was smeared on the walls and broken canvases littered the ground along with shattered paint jars. The brown couch was turned over, and I almost didn't see her. The blonde waves of hair invisible, barely noticable due to all the red. For in the middle of the living room is my Blonde angel.
Drowning in a pool of her own blood.
“No!” I run, my feet devouring the distance in three steps, and scoop up my very heart, drawing her limp body into my arms.
“No, no, no, no.” I shake her blonde head, “Wake up my fiery pixie. Wake the fuck up!” I scream the words, to fuck with my vocal cords, they could rip to shreds as long as she heard me. All that mattered was that she heard me. Heard me and blessed me with the sight of those candy-colored Bambi eyes I hated so much.
“Wake up baby, please wake up.” I was shaking now, my palms sweating, my forehead drenched. Every inch of her was covered in red and I couldn't see her perfect skin. I couldn't see it and it was driving me insane. I’m talking about Mad Hatter level madness.
Where was it coming from? Where was the damn blood coming from?
I can't think straight. My fucking brain is failing me and showing me how weak I truly am. How vulnerable and frail I could be.
My chest seizes and I realize my monster heart has been cracked open. My heart's walls having been sliced through at the sight of my red rose lying in a puddle of her own DNA.
The sight of her breaks the ice walls around my aorta and I feel.
I feel so fucking much it shatters me.
