Three years later...
SARA
"So, how are you feeling?"
A fucking hateful question. One I always hesitated to answer. How did I feel? My daughter was dead, my club I'd left in my dust, I was a murderer, I was broken.
"I'm okay."
He looked over his notebook and started scribbling. I wondered often what words he wrote in that thing. Crazy? Misguided? Demented?
"And Julia, have you thought about her?"
Every fucking day. Every minute of every fucking day.
It had been three years since I lost her. During that time Catcher had disappeared too, my club had dissolved and I'd run away to Denver.
I worked in an office now, I had basically no responsibilities there, I input data and looked at the time, counting down the minutes until I could go home.
My home was a one bedroom mess. But there I could breathe. I spent my nights crying and my days in a suit.
"No, I try not to."
Again he scribbled in his pad whilst I wondered what the fuck my purpose was. I had been through too much already and going over all of it again made my mind mushy. My daughter was gone, my men were gone, my life was gone.
"Unfortunately our time is up, take care of yourself Sara."
I stood and nodded before I shook his hand and walked out.
Take care of myself? I am nothing.
