DAMIEN
.
.
I moved to the end of the room, the dark space then felt suffocating, taking off the baseball bat that was kept propped against the wall, the wood cool and solid in my hand.
The thought of Leila being in my house, in my space just miles away, twisted something cold and harsh in my gut.
I could use this on her, my thought wandered, my grip tightened on the bat, and maybe make her mother see her daughter go through it, feel just a fraction of the pain we’d felt, the pain that was a constant ache behind my ribs.
The thought was ugly and monstrous but it was there, a dark whisper born of years of hurt.
The thought of how much I had gone through, picking up minimal jobs back in the day, scraping by just to take care of Gerald when my dad was there laying in that hospital
