Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Even after all these years, I was his only emergency contact. Feeling numb, I listened to the officer explain he’d been drunk at work and had fallen off a rig, snapping his neck and breaking almost every bone in his body.
Pain spread through my chest, but not from his death. It was because he never changed. Some small part of me always hoped my leaving would force him to turn his life around. Do better. If only for himself. The only thing he did was make sure to drag me down one last time and write me in as the executor of his finances and estate.
The joke of it all was he was broke. The house was far from paid off. He’d taken out so many loans against it. It was only a matter of time before this dump was gone too. Seemed easier to show up in the middle of the night and light the whole place on fire.
But here I am, still stuck in my father’s web of control, doing the right thing.
I get dressed and make my way downstairs for some coffee. Nothing is getting done without multiple cups. The pillows Mom bought still rest on the outdated couch. Frames, covered in dust, sit along the mantel. Old yellow dinner plates are stacked on the kitchen counter, waiting to be cleaned. I shake my head, wishing away what’s in store for me. “Coffee first. Coffee will make this better.”
Nothing is going to make this better. Find the match. Go with plan B.
Tempting.
Thankful for the smell of brewing coffee masking some of the mustiness, I pour my kryptonite and groan into my steaming mug. “If there’s one thing that will never let me down.” I stare out the window. The backyard hasn’t been mowed in what looks like years. Real shocker. Peering to the left, my eyes catch on the boarded-up hole in the next-door neighbor’s fence. My grip tightens around my mug.
“Where you at, girl! You’re gonna get a beating when I catch you!” More glass explodes against the living room wall. My chest wheezes in and out, and my body trembles in fear. “Come out, come out, wherever the fuck you are!”
His heavy footsteps get closer. He’s going to find me. He’s going to hurt me again. I crawl from under the kitchen table and open the sliding glass door. I can’t see, it’s so dark, but I run to the edge of the backyard as fast as I can. Using my hands, I search for the loose board, wincing as a splinter wedges in my skin. Finding the slot, I push it aside and squeeze myself through the fence.
I shudder at the memory. That loose board was my saving grace more times than I could count. It led to a place he could never find me. He was too drunk to see far enough. The Ferguson kids were grown and moved away, but they never got rid of the playhouse in the yard. Over the years, it became my safe place until the sun would rise and I could sneak back into the house.
Two coffees and three failed calls to cleaning companies solidify plan B is easier and cheaper. “Looks like I’m adding ‘buy cleaning products’ to my dreadful to-do list,” I grumble and head out to my car, doing my best to ignore the forest of a front yard. Now, not only am I the realtor and cleaning service, I’m also the lawn guy. Mechanical fires happen all the time. Faulty wiring. Stove was accidentally left on. I’ve watched enough Law and Order to know some people get away with it. . .
I grab my laptop bag from my car so I can YouTube how to sell a house. It can’t be that hard. People do it all the time. People who have nice homes. Who’s going to want to buy a rundown shithole? “I can go for a run and forget I left the candles lit. Simple mistake.”
Throwing my strap over my shoulder, I shut the door and turn, noticing a silhouette in the Ferguson’s bay window. They must know I’m home. I wonder if I should go say hello. The last time I saw her was when she found me shivering in the playhouse. My lip was cut, and I had scrapes on my elbows and knees from my father pushing me down the stairs.
“Oh heavens, child. Jerald!” Her loud voice startles me. I clutch my knees harder against my chest. “Oh honey, don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you. Are you okay?”
I’m afraid. He told me not to tell. Said he would hurt me worse. I tuck my head between my legs and chest.
“Jerald!” An older man runs up, kneeling beside her. “I told you he was hittin’ her. Look at this poor thing. We need to do something. Call the police.”