Dead Flower (Sequel to The Flower Girl Book Two)

Chapter 23: Happy?

                                 Andrew

Stormed into the door with anger. Taking out the flames of lighting on the door with the slams. There wasn't a car in the driveway. That means no wife. Where's my daughter? I fear that she's here alone. Lurking my feet down the empty dark hall, without pictures on the wall. No story telling in this home.

Leading myself to her room, I silently push the door ajar. She's not in her bed. Gone, both of them. Pulling at the ends of my hair, where the fuck could they be? Checking my watch since my phone is dead, it's ten. Way past her bed time. Veronica wonders why I flip on her.

Flower needs her sleep. She's growing. I don't know how to occupy my time. Sleep is not the answer. Not when my girls aren't here. Phones plugged in on the charger. I walk in circles, but it's not because I'm excited about something. Checking outside, spreading the blinds open, I'm blinded by headlights. Thank fucking god. I thought I was going to die.

Stepping out, I walk to where Flower's car seat is located. Opening the unlocked door, I unbuckle her, carrying my baby to bed. She's so tired as she sleeps lifelessly in my arms. Back inside with the air conditioning, I wake her long enough to brush her teeth and hair before putting her to bed.

Once her bedroom door is cracked, allowing a stream of light from the haunted halls, I tear my shirt off. Veronica stands in the middle of the living room with a bag in between her fingers. Clenching my teeth together, my jaw tics. "Where the fuck were you?"

She sweeps past me. She doesn't make it too far before I push her against the fridge. "What Andrew? What are you going to do? Hit me? I fucking dare you to. Where were you?" Placing my forearm against her throat, I lay my forehead on the hair of my arm. "We can't keep fighting like this." I feel her throat swallow under my skin. I only wish she would have swallowed her next words. "Maybe we need a break."

I tear the bag from her fingers, tossing it on the counter. Picking her up, I carry her to the bathroom in our bedroom. I plan to wash the thoughts and feelings from her skin. Fuck her brain dead until she can't fathom leaving me. Ripping her clothes off, my greedy hands grip her breasts.

"You're not going anywhere baby." That's all I say to her for the rest of the night. Coaxing my lips over hers, the water streams down our clothed skin. I can't tell if my tears are being washed down the drain, or if they're dripping down my skin.

Thinking back to the incident where I shoved her back down that cellar, maybe we shouldn't have sex. I only hug her to my frame. Veronica isn't a fuck. She's for the love making. She grips her nails into my shirt. "Just tell me Andrew. Were you with another woman?"

Sighing, I cradle her head. "I can't fight your fears."

Pulling my wet clothes from hers, I get out of the shower. Shedding the drenched material, I stand naked in front of the mirror. Water droplets drip down the ink on my body. We're both at a loss for words. Until she speaks up.

"You ask me where I've been, but can't tell me where you have been. How does that make any sense Andrew? It doesn't."

"You had our daughter, and didn't tell me where you were going. That's the difference Veronica."

I'm not telling her where I was. I know I'll be getting shit that I don't want to hear. Sometimes, I just need alone time, just like her when she goes out. See where that got her? I watch as she slides down the wall of the shower. The water rains down on her.

"You should take the clothes off."

"Get out."

Is she serious? Whatever, I don't feel like arguing anymore. Grabbing for a towel, I hoist it around my waist. Wringing the wet clothes into the sink, I take care of them next. Giving her space, I walk into the bedroom to change. Stepping into a pair of boxers, I catch my reflection on the dresser mirror.