Broken Hearted Love {Book 2}

Chapter 11

“She lives in the shadow of a lonely girl. Voice so quiet you don’t hear a word, always talking but she can’t be heard. You can see there if you catch her eye, I know she’s brave but it’s trapped inside. Scared to talk but she don’t know why.” – Little Me by Little Mix

Chapter 11

Christy’s POV

My erratic breathing could be heard through the quiet, dark night. I wrapped my arms around my body, shoving the item in my hand into the inside of my jacket. My head jolted with every cricket chipper and every leaf rustle. My mind was spinning; tears brimming the edge of my eyelids. The cold air whipped against my face as I walked faster down the sidewalk.

The motel came into view and I forced my feet to move faster. I was practically running. As I passed by the main check-in desk, I could see the strawberry blonde hair of Allison twirling around her finger as she flipped through a style magazine. The beautiful diamond ring glittered as the lights flickered slightly on the ceiling above her. I couldn’t help but let a sigh escape my lips as I hurried past.

Marriage and a happy family was something I’ve always yearned for. But now it’s something I can never have.

I gladly pushed the painful thoughts to the back of my head, rushing to my hotel room. As soon as I had my key in the door, I flew into the room, slamming and locking the door behind me. I leaned my forehead against the cool surface as sobs escaped from deep in my chest. The world was spinning around me.

I quickly found my way through the dark and into the bathroom. I threw the item from my jacket into the sink, turning the tap on all the way. The clear liquid mixed with the blood covering the item. The thick blood was caked on my hands as well and it was beginning to dry into a cracking layer, like paint. All the images from an hour ago came rushing back into my mind as the color red took over my vision.

With the folder Charlie just gave me grasped in my arms, I walked into my hotel room. I closed the door and stopped dead in my tracks when I noticed the three large boxes sitting on my bed. I carefully walked over to them, setting the folder down beside them. I lifted the brown cardboard lid off, revealing a pile of clothes. There were jeans, an assortment of nice shirts, and a leather jacket and sweater sitting at the bottom. The next box contained more jeans and shirts. The last box contained two pairs of knee high leather boots: black and brown. I couldn’t help but gasp as I ran my hands over the soft material of the clothes. This was designer stuff. Laying at the bottom of the third box was a note.

You’ve got to look the part. Have fun, beautiful!

-        Charlie

I cringed at the nickname.

…

I stared at myself in the mirror. My hair was natural, falling to barely touch my shoulders. I hated that the tight jeans made my legs look thin. I hated that the top flowed perfectly from my stomach. I hated that the leather jacket felt comfortable around my arms; the inside of it lined with fleece, protecting me from the cold. I hated that the leather boots was the perfect accent to this badass-looking outfit.

And I hated that I felt beautiful and confident as I tucked the knife into the inside of my boot and the gun into the waistband of my jeans. I shouldn’t feel this way. I was about to go kill someone. I was about to spill blood. It made my stomach churn but I pushed back the bile and took deep breaths. I couldn’t think about it. I just had to do it, like ripping off a Band-Aid.

The chilling night didn’t affect me that much. And it wasn’t because I was warm. I was actually freezing, but my brain was too jumbled to care; too jumbled to wrap my arms around myself. What made me even queasier was the fact that the knife and gun felt natural in my boot and jeans, like it belonged there. I didn’t even notice either one was there. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t foreign.