“I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know how to explain what a failure I was. I didn’t want to drag you into my mess.”
“I’m already in it, Travis,” I yell. “You made me a part of your life. Own it.”
His fists are clenching, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
I want to scream. I want to punch through walls. Instead, I take a step towards the door. My knees almost buckle. “I need to go,” I say. “I can’t breathe in here.”
He stands in front of the door. “Don’t leave, we can talk through this.”
I push past him. “You want me to stick around so you can lie to me some more? I’ll pass.”
He won’t let me go.
He grips my arm, not hard, but not gentle, either. “Please. Don’t leave.”
“Why not?” I sob, brokenly, yanking my arm out of his grip. “What else haven’t you told me? That you’re married? That you murdered someone? Fuck this, Travis. I’m done. I’m done with all the lies. I can’t live like this anymore.”
I rush out, the air in my lungs burning as it desperately tries to fill them. I’m already down the front steps by the time he reaches me, and it’s pouring outside. Rain soaks my skin, but I don’t care. I can’t be here a second longer.
“Violet, wait! Please don’t go.”
I spin, skin soaked, hair plastered to my face. “I needed the truth. That’s all. Not you hiding from your mistakes—just the truth. It wasn’t that hard. You didn’t even give me a chance.”
He stands there, clothes clinging to him, lips parted like he’s about to say the one thing that will fix all of this. But there’s nothing to say. Nothing at all.
“We’re over, Travis.”
My words are final.
I get in my car and slam it into reverse, spinning out onto the road, headlights slicing through the storm. My body shakes so hard I can barely grip the wheel. I drive, fast, like somethingbehind me might catch up if I stop. I don’t know where I’m going. Only that I am not going back.
The roads are empty, just rain and lightning and the roar of my own sobbing. For the first time, I’m not afraid of the electric bolts coming out of the sky. Part of me kind of hopes they hit me, because then maybe this pain will go away. I drive until I’m almost out of gas, and then pull off onto a dark stretch of highway and sit in the hush. That’s the thing about darkness—sometimes it’s safer than any kind of light.
I cry until there’s nothing left, until my lungs hurt and I’m empty.
Amber.
That poor baby.
He failed her.
He failed me.
I wish I could hate him for that. I wish I could say it didn’t matter, that I didn’t care. But the truth is, I do.
I care so much it might kill me.
19
I NEED TO TALK TO MYmom.
It takes three tries for my fingers to go steady enough to hit the right contacts. She picks up in less than two rings, her voice sounding like she just woke up, but I know that’s not true. She rarely sleeps, and when she does, it’s restless and broken. More often than not, I find her on the sofa in the middle of the night, staring at the television, trying to quiet her mind enough to drift off.
“Violet?”
I take a breath and try to speak, but it comes out as more of a gasp. “Mom.”
“Violet, honey, are you okay? What’s happening?”