Broken Hearted Love {Book 2}

Chapter 9

“It’s everything you wanted, it’s everything you don’t. It’s one door swinging open and one door swinging closed. Some prayers find an answer, some prayers never know. We’re holding on and letting go. Sometimes we’re holding angels and we never even know. Don’t know if we’ll make it, but we know, we just can’t let it show.” – Holding On and Letting Go by Ross Copperman 

Chapter 9

Christy’s POV

The motel room wasn’t as bad as some of the cheap rooms I’ve stayed in before. I refused to turn on any lights, not wanting anyone to see too much movement from outside. I already felt anxiety with Allison and the maids knowing I was here. I couldn’t trust anyone. It scared the living daylights out of me that there was a woman only thirty feet from my room. Everyone who has had association with me could be in danger; everyone could be killed. Harry, Mikey, or even Allison. A life like mine was nothing but a game to someone like Andrew or his father. They wave their gun back and forth until they hit a target, waiting to cause as much pain as possible. 

The pain and misery of someone else seemed to give them power. Power fueled them. What kind of childhood do you have to grow up in to become a monster like that? 

I wiggled my frozen toes in my boots, attempting to get the blood flowing again. My wet pants and damp sweatshirt stuck to my skin, making me shiver. I dumped the contents of my bag onto the bed. Three pairs of pants, four t-shirt (one of them being Harry’s), and an extra sweatshirt scattered across the mattress. Shimmying my pants and sweatshirt off, I draped them over the bathtub to dry. I grabbed a pair of leggings I had stuffed into the bottom of my bag and Harry’s t-shirt. The t-shirt was big on me, falling down almost to my knees. The too-big-for-me size is what I liked the most about wearing Harry’s clothes. Yes, they drowned my petite body in so much extra fabric, but I didn’t care that I was drowning. This was the best kind of drowning, because I was drowning in Harry. His scent filled everything around me and I was losing myself in him. He took my mind off every horrid thought running through my mind and it just let me breathe for a second. 

I swiped the clothes off the bed, letting them fall to the floor in a messy pile at the foot of the bed, but I could care less. Pulling back the surprising soft duvet, I let the bed sheets consume me, pulling them over my head until the whole dark, outside world was gone and forgotten. And, a restless slumber overtook me. 

I held the knife in my hand; thick blood ran down my arm, seeping between my fingers. I stared down at the lifeless body lying in front of me; the face of the person unknown. Scarlet surrounded the body, soaking it from head to toe; I cringed. I cause this. I had walked into the dark room, not caring about the life I was taking and I plunged a knife into the man’s chest. I heard him yell out in pain. I watched his body fall dead to the floor. I watched as his chest ceased rising. 

“You’re doing this for Harry. You’re doing this for Harry.” I repeated to myself as I took more and more steps away from the body. Tears pricked at the corner of my eyes, slowly beginning to fall down my cheeks. I was letting this darkness take over me for the man I loved. Who does that? Who kills for someone else? They say love makes you do crazy things, but this, this is just…

Psychotic. 

That’s it.

I was clearly losing my mind. 

My body suddenly went rigid when the sound of his venomous laugh filled the air around me, leaking out of the darkened corners of the room. My blood-covered hand gripped the hilt of my knife tighter as Andrew’s father stepped out of the shadows. He wore a fitted gray suit; the same kind of suits his son always wore. His hands were clasped behind his back and it made me nervous that I couldn’t see what he might be holding behind his back.