Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 62737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“She’s gone. I’m so sorry, Rory, so fucking sorry.” The hushed tones echo throughout the living room. I stay still, watching as this utterly strong man tries to get himself together. His walls are slowly crumbling, and nobody, not a single person in this world, would blame him for allowing himself to cry.
“It’s my fault. I left. I ran away,” Rory’s tone is one of anguish as she attempts to pull away from Jude, using her fists to pound at his chest. He lets her get it out. What he doesn’t do is stop holding her.
“Rory, she told you to come to me. She told you to get away. She was protecting you, doing the best she could to make sure you were safe. Don’t take that away from her.” I can tell he’s not getting through to her. I’d expect nothing less. Nobody in this situation is going to listen to anything when their whole world has been taken away.
“God, please, no,” Rory wails in between sobs. Jude starts slowly rocking her in his lap, making shushing noises, and through it all, he remains the pillar of strength for his sister.
21
JUDE
“Is she asleep?” I ask Ronnie when she walks through the bedroom door. Rory went from my arms to Ronnie’s after twenty or so minutes. My sister wasn’t calm by any means, and I almost called Luke, the doctor of our group, to see if he’d make a house call. Then I thought better of it. He’s an obstetrician/gynecologist, the chances of him having a sedative on hand were probably slim to none. I watched the two of them walk to the guest room together, Ronnie’s arm wrapped around Rory’s waist and my sister’s head tucked into the crook of her shoulder.
“Yeah, I put some nighttime medicine with a drink on the nightstand, and she asked for me to keep the bedroom door open,” Ronnie replies, walking toward the bed. She drops her shorts to the ground and crawls under the covers. “Are you coming to bed?” She might make it sound like a question, but there’s no denying Ronnie wants me in bed with her, and while I’m sure sleep won’t come easy to me, I’ll lie there with her even if it’s with my eyes wide open. We both need something good to hold on to tonight.
“Foxy, there’s no other place I’d rather be.” I slide in beside her. She instantly turns into my body. Her cold nose touches my neck, and the palm of her hand goes to the tattoo I had inked on my skin for her.
“Promise me, Jude. You’ll talk to me or somebody when you’re ready. I don’t want to push or ask a million times if you’re okay or what’s wrong.” I place my hand over hers, giving it a soft squeeze while thinking about the right words to say.
There’s so much we have to talk about. Picking at the scab that is my father and the thought of bringing him up when we’re in bed unnerves me to the core.
“I will, but it won’t be tonight. Too much has already happened today, and I’d rather shut my fucking mind off for a little bit.” There’s no bark to my response, more along the lines of a bone-deep weariness has set in. I’ve yet to give Rory or Ronnie the full details, only that our father has been arrested, and an investigation is underway. The next few days are going to be rough as hell on Rory between statements that need to be given and packing up clothes and shit from Bobbi’s apartment, which I will not be allowing my sister to enter, and then there’s figuring out what Rory would like to do for her mom’s final resting place.
“Alright.” I play with the tendrils of Ronnie’s hair, feeling her body relax, and while I’d love nothing more than to fall asleep right along with her, it seems like an impossible task. I probably should get up and check on Rory, check my phone for any messages I could have received. Then there’s a part of me that’s ready to hack into the government system to see what they’ve done with the abusive, murdering piece-of-shit man. But before I can make that decision, my eyes fall closed, and somehow, sleep takes me under.
I’m tossed into a nightmare, the same one that always plays on repeat when they come in the middle of the night. It’s of the last time I saw my father when we lived under one roof together. I’d never call it a home. That would require it to be happy, a place where you can get your fill of food and be provided for in a way that you didn’t second-guess your existence in life. Mom had already taken off, or that’s how it seemed. After tonight’s events, I’m wondering what really happened, since any time I’ve searched for any type of digital footprint, I haven’t come up with a damn thing.