She looked me squarely in the eyes and said, “For putting you into the mess that’s my life.”
It took two and a half days for my life to fall apart.
Sometimes people think they’re at rock bottom and they’re not.
I’d seen rock bottom, though.
I’d studied the structure of it.
I’d learned that once you were truly there, there are only really two ways out. To be killed or kill yourself.
I know that people would say differently.
But those who say differently haven’t seen the actual bottom.
They don’t know that once you’re down there, there’s no way out.
There’s only pain and torture.
There’s suffering and silence.
There’s no getting better. There’s no bright side to look at. There’s no other way out.
My doorbell rang and I looked at the door, wondering if it was even worth it to get up off the couch.
Maybe I could just lie here and die.
The door to my house was opened then, and I barely spared a look to the side to see who it was.
I was just too tired.
My eyes closed, and I willed the pain in my chest to go away.
A scent hit me, and I opened my eyes and glared.
Irrational anger surged through me and I sat up, my anger aimed at the woman in front of me.
It wasn’t her fault.
None of it was her fault.
Yet, I blamed her anyway.
If it wasn’t for her, none of this would’ve happened.
“What are you doing here?” I snarled.
Sage.
Sage Jane Rice.
Daughter of Mitzi and Dominic Rice. Shit eater of the Irish Mob leader Sean O’Sullivan. Intended of Mario O’Neal, nephew to Sean O’Sullivan. Mario O’Neal that was now deceased by my hand.
She sat down on the coffee table and stared at me with those sad, broken eyes that had gotten me here in the first place.
She picked up a toy and studied it for long moments before setting it back down exactly how she’d found it.
My heart hammered when I glanced at that toy.