“They look the same to me. Have I told you how amazing you are today?”
The fact that she has been through what she has and can tell the difference between the North Star and Venus is too much for my simple mind to comprehend.
“Have I told you how amazing you are today?”
“Hey, we haven’t done a cheers yet with our champagne!”
“Let me,” she pleads, taking her lip between her bottom teeth.
“To us. Always. No regrets. Live for today.”
She clinks her cup onto mine.
“Cheers,” I return.
We both take a drink of the cheap drink and I pull her in for a kiss. I don’t think happiness has stayed with me for this long and I have decided that no matter what comes my way, I won’t let it go. I will be like Gwen and forever fight, despite the consequences.
“Let’s hold onto this forever, sweet girl.”
“What do you mean?”
“This feeling of goodness. I kind of like it.”
“I do too.”
We finished our drink and talked about everything from the weather to Gwendolyn’s idea for her next tattoo. She wants to get a sugar skull, as it decorates the homes of many during the Day of the Dead. She sees it as a close representation of her soul, one that is doomed for an eternity in between Heaven and Hell. I tell her that she is going to Heaven despite what she says. God absolves sinners because He understands why we do what we have to do.
We argued for a little while on that matter, which was refreshing. She is a feisty little thing and it made me hard as fuck. It kind of put me back in the place where I belong, because I am not normally some soft, emotional man. Seeing her get hot, bothered, and passionate about the slightest thing made me want to go out on full cave man mode for her. I guess it is just a matter of time before we embrace the other side of us.
The kind that likes to play and wallow in the darkness for a while with pain and dirty debaucheries. I find myself adjusting my hard cock countless times on the way back to the car as my thoughts turn dirty. I would love to ravage her and tell her to do bad things to me, but I am not sure how she feels about being intimate again after losing the baby. She hasn’t bled for a week now, but she still needs to heal. I would be lying to you if I said I didn’t want to claim her still.
Her mouth isn’t broken, or her ass for that matter. I keep that in mind to address when we get back home because my hunger will need to be satisfied. She knows what kind of man that I am, just like I know what kind of woman she is. We understand each other because we are one in the same. Being with her is as easy as breathing.
I see my red car in the shadows and decide to bring up our extracurricular activities when we get home.
“So, what do you want to do when we get home?”
“Want to watch a movie? Cuddle on the couch?”
That is her way of saying that she isn’t ready, and my cock instantly stands down. I take a deep breath.
“Sounds perfect, babe.”
We continue our walk back to my car and suddenly something seems off. I see a shadow lurking in the background and a car parked close to mine. That confuses me greatly because there are a dozen open spots. I don’t understand why someone would park right next to me. I don’t let my worry show because for all I know, it could be nothing. I don’t want to ruin the best day that we had together.
I continue walking to my car and the engine next to mine starts. I try my best to ignore it, but something deep inside of me is telling me not to. The old part of me that is able to pull the bad guys out of nowhere is calling out from the depths in which I buried it.
I see the dome light illuminate and a familiar face grins at me beneath the light. I turn my head slightly, not letting my guard down. This is my goddamn story and he will not be the deciding factor on how it ends. I see his hands make their way to his neck, straightening his tie, and the dome light turns off. I squeeze Gwendolyn’s hand tighter from impulse and she must realize my heightened sense of unease.
“What’s wrong, Welch?”
“Just play it cool, Gwen, okay? Let me talk.”
I am going to try my best to ignore this asshole, but he is like the plague and I don’t see him letting me be.
“I don’t understand what is happening, Welch.”
“Gwen, you seriously need to stop talking and let me handle this, okay? When I promised you that I would look after you, I meant it. Do not look this man in his eyes, hear me? He isn’t good.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“I love you too, sweet girl.”
We make our way to my car and I pop the trunk, throwing my bag in the back. I take my keys and head to the driver’s side to unlock the door with Gwendolyn still at my side, though I know that this rat is here to stir up the shit pot and it is not going to end well.
“Hey, shit bag. Told you I would be watching.”
“Who is that?” Gwendolyn whispers.
“He isn’t your friend. So look down and don’t answer anything he has to say.”
She starts to shake and I want to tell her to calm her nerves, that we can go on about life like real people, but maybe we were merely given a glimpse into goodness before the evil ways of the world enveloped us once more. I don’t think I can handle that again and I know for a fact that she won’t be able to. I should be an anxious mess as my mind plays out hundreds of potential scenes on how we can live our lives, but I’m not. Instead, I keep my stance stoic as he walks over to me with his hand on his gun and the other one his gold, shiny badge that he more than likely abuses.
Fucker.
He doesn’t know my story. Fuck for all I know he could have been an active participant in any given case like mine. I can sniff out the bad guys from a mile away and he is a weasel. If I had something I could kill him with, I would without any reservations.
“Seems I have a little something here, William,” Lieutenant Thompson sneers, holding up a white piece of paper.
I scrunch my eyebrows at him, wondering what the fuck is on that paper. A warrant? DNA results? If it is DNA, it certainly isn’t mine. Gwendolyn said she took extra care of making sure she didn’t leave anything behind at the crime scene and she took care of all the evidence. But, in the back of my mind, I think to myself that it is always something.
“You don’t have shit,” I retort, backing up with Gwendolyn’s hand in mine.
I’m holding onto it so tight, I am sure that the circulation is slim to none to her tiny fingers.
“Let’s play a game, shall we? It’s called ‘Who Killed Isabel?’”
“I told you, you are barking up the wrong tree, man.”
“This piece of paper yields other results, William.”
“Welch, please,” Gwendolyn whispers.
I feel the ignition of bad about to turn and explode into something irreversible. Gwendolyn’s body is quaking and all I want to do is take her home like she wished, snuggle her in a blanket, and watch her favorite show on Netflix. But, part of me tells me I won’t be going home with this ass-wipe in front of me.
“Do you want to play this game, Gwendolyn?”
She shudders again beneath me and I try to squeeze her hand to sway her from this bastard’s ways.
“Stop it!” she yells.
“I said you have the wrong people. She doesn’t even have a car or a way to get places. She couldn’t have been at Isabel’s apartment.”
“Must I inform you that helping her lie is a crime, William?” he states, holding up the piece of paper again, taunting us with his disgusting and manipulative smile.
“We didn’t commit a crime, asshole.”
“I know all about worthless fuckers like you two. People like you never change.”
Gwendolyn starts crying and I wish we could run, but I still don’t know what is in that damn piece of paper and until I do, I have to stay here to protect us both.
“You don’t know shit about us.”
“I know that you two have
killed before.”
“Stop it!” Gwen yells, putting her hands over her ears.
“You need to leave us alone. Get the fuck away and let us go home.”
“But we haven’t started to play our game yet. Seems your red headed slut is just now warming up to me.”
“I’m warning you, fucker. Don’t talk to her like that.”
“I said fucking stop!” Gwen cries.
“Do you want to play with us, Gwendolyn? Do you want to know what is on this piece of paper? Are you ready for your lover to be put away for life?”
“I can’t!” she yells again.
“Gwendolyn, stop it. Please,” I whisper.
She is irrational and I am trying my best to pull her back to the current. I tug slightly on her elbow.
“There is information on this paper here that will point fingers at one of you. Is it you-,” he points to me, “Or you-,” he points to Gwendolyn.
“No more! Please!” Gwendolyn sobs.
I pull her into me and whisper into her ear, “No one can take this day from us, remember. We live in the now. For us. Always.”
She squeezes me back as chants from our new tormentor play about.
“I have proof. It’s best if you make it easier on one another.”
Gwendolyn caves just when I thought I had brought her back. She falls to the ground, collecting her tears in her hands.
“I did it! Leave him alone! It was me! Me! Me, goddamn it!”
“No! No!” I scream.
The cop opens the piece of paper up to nothing. It was a blank piece of white paper the whole time, but he knows now that Gwendolyn was the one that killed Isabel and he will stop at nothing to destroy us. How long will we be able to live like that?
Gwendolyn stands abruptly.
“Welch, I love you. I’m sorry.”
She darts towards the bridge and I do not take any time to make a decision. I turn and follow her because wherever she goes, I go. When she hurts, I hurt. When she runs, I run. My heart is speeding up in my chest and I can’t breathe.
“Gwendolyn! Wait for me! Please, I beg you!”
Her feet slow down to my pace as the demands from Lieutenant Thompson rain heavily in the background. We are both breathless as our looks exchange pleas of desperation.
“Only we decide our future, right?” she cries, wiping her eyes.
I look at her and I know what she is saying. Only we can decide how our story ends. They say before you die that your life flashes in front of you. That didn’t happen to me. Only the moments that mattered, the ones where hatred was replaced with love flooded my brain and eased my fears.
I open my hand to hers and she takes it. I bring her in for one last kiss, the warmth and scent of her is something I will never forget. The story of us is one that will likely never be remembered by anyone. No one will know that we are gone and dead, but we led an extraordinary life. One filled with love and survival. Growth and overcoming hardships. Simplicity was embraced as we wore smiles instead of tears.
Our lips part and I look into her eyes one last time.
“Always us.”
“Always us,” she whispers.
The faint cry of police sirens sounds and we step over the steel on the Hawthorne Bridge.
“Look, sweet girl. A falling star.”
She grabs onto my hand as we look at the star that is losing its beauty, light, and life. We jump off the bridge together into the cold, fall night, hands grasped and hearts full.
No one besides us will decide how our story ends.
We jump from the steel as our hands tighten around each other. My heart is beating so fast, I am certain to die from a heart attack before I hit the water. I have seconds left to live before my story ends. One more gaze at the woman who showed me that goodness was not lost, that love can be found, and that the evil ways of the world are not all that matter.
I look to my side as her gaze meets mine. Her red hair is flowing in the wind as we fall, as we wait to meet our deaths together. She offers me one last smile, making me understand that love with her was sweet, real, and safe. We will not have extravagant funerals with flowers and mourning people. Instead, tonight on this fall evening, we will be buried with the fish in the Willamette River in Portland.
West Coast love.
Just me and my girl.
Then the hard water meets my body and I explode into nothingness. Finally, death is divine with my sweet girl at my side.
I want to say a big thank you for reading this story. I know so many people asked me if Gwen and Welch got their happily-ever-after and I never gave away spoilers. I only replied, “In their own way.” It is true, though. They did get their own ending, deciding that no one else would decide how their story was going to end. I know that this was more than likely not what you were expecting, but let’s face it, really bad things happen in this world. Telling the ugly stories while throwing little bits of hope in them is what I want to do. I want to be the type of writer that is remembered for moving her readers and creating something that cannot be put into words. To me, that is worth more than anything. Again, thank you from the bottom of my humble heart. As always, live like there is no tomorrow and carpe diem.
Love,
Mary
Killing Kenji (Monster #3)
I have always been a good boy, never breaking the rules. In school, I never colored outside of the lines and always said ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. But I have secrets. Lots of secrets. Just when I thought I had found someone that could understand me, he is gone and so is my heart.
Mary E. Palmerin currently resides in Indiana with her husband and two small boys. She enjoys writing raw, taboo tales that strike various emotions in her readers. When she isn’t busy writing, she usually has her nose in a good book. Mary loves spending time with her family and friends, anything outdoors, cooking, art, tattoos, red wine, traveling, and anything that makes her laugh. You can keep up with her work on her blog at marypalmerinauthor.blogspot.com as well as her Facebook page at facebook.com/succumbingtoscarsandsorrow for release information and signing schedules. Follow her on Twitter @MP_writer8! Mary loves to hear from her readers!
Broken: Book 1 of the Scars and Sorrow Saga
Lyla Harper’s life has always been shadowed. With her childhood full of unpleasant memories that she tries to tuck away and forget about, she succeeds at putting on a happy front and convincing those around her that she is content. But she isn’t.
Meet Lyla Elizabeth Harper, a teen whose journey is less than ideal. She experiences heartache, loss, and bullying; but through it all she strives for hope. She counts down the days until she has the chance to start over in a new city, unaware of her past. A city far away from the recollections that have scarred her physically and mentally.
In the first book of the Scars and Sorrow Saga, you will be faced with the ghastly and horrendous events that plague Lyla, starting on the day of her eighteenth birthday, a day that changed her forever. Lyla thought that she was broken before, but she was wrong. Davis Moore, a 22-year-old handsome cop and also Rigdon’s golden boy, steals something that is irreplaceable from Lyla on that fateful night on Brownsmith Road.
Others will challenge her will and strength, testing her and pushing her to the brink of giving up. Will Lyla be able to trudge through the deep rut that she is stuck in to move to Chicago and start her life over? Or will the evil events consume her and leave her grounded, unable to lead a life free from pain?
**Graphic content including underage drinking and drug use, non-consensual sex, and self-mutilation. Not suitable for readers under the age of eighteen.**
Succumbing: Book 2 of the Scars and Sorrow Saga
Lyla Harper is sure she will be alone for the rest of her life. After she leaves Kansas for college in Chicago, she hopes she will never have to face her dark secrets again. Four years later, Lyla lands an internship at a prestigious firm, hoping to plant her roots and close the door to her past forever. Unfortunately, Lyla is
about to learn that the past has a way of finding her, no mater how well she hides.
After she is assigned to assist a marketing millionaire and notorious jerk, Lyla attempts to overcome her pessimistic view of the world and move on with her life. But after she lays eyes on her drop-dead gorgeous neighbor, Everett Brown, her secrets begin to resurface, prompting her to regress into her old coping ways. Led by curiosity and an undeniable attraction, Lyla pursues a passionate relationship with Everett and slowly begins to feel like a woman again. Now all she has to do is decide to tell him the truth.
In this contemporary erotic romance, only time will tell if a young woman’s new lover will be able to save her from herself as her past emerges from the darkness to confront her once and for all.
**Graphic content including underage drinking, drug use, non-consensual sex, and self-mutilation. Not suitable for readers under the age of eighteen.**
Shadows: Book 3 of the Scars and Sorrow Saga
Everett Brown has secrets. Secrets that Lyla has been waiting for him to tell her for months. He has successfully evaded them, but Lyla is becoming impatient.
With the vicious attack of his beloved still fresh in his mind along with the painful loss he feels, his emotions play a battle against one another, testing his strength and ability to hold himself together.
Will the secrets that he keeps jeopardize his relationship to the woman who has his heart? Or will he learn to cope with memories that resurface with a vengeance and move on to the next phase of his life… marriage?
With Michael Thomas and Davis Moore still free, justice has yet to be served. In this whirlwind contemporary erotic romance novel, this young couple’s relationship will be tried with numerous wicked curveballs and twists that even they aren’t prepared for.
**Graphic content including underage drinking, drug use, non-consensual sex, and self-mutilation. Not suitable for readers under the age of eighteen.**
The Emancipation of Love Page 15
