Before We Burned - Book One| [Currently Being Rewritten]

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Blood.

There was blood everywhere.

I stood in the staircase, staring at the wooden floorboards. They were painted in mahogany. A color that makes you sick.

Mom remained unmoved. I called out to her but she didn't hear me. I kept shouting her name at the top of my lungs, hoping she would open her eyes and hear me.

But she didn't.

No matter how much I tried.

The man who shot her was long gone, he never looked back. I wanted to do something, I wanted to save her. I told him to step away from her but he didn't.

I begged him to but he didn't listen to me.

I wished dad was here.

But again, like every time — he wasn't.

He never was around.

The last thing I heard was my mother's muffled cries of pain and my eyes fluttered open.

Hot sweat rolled down my forehead, my neck, and all the way down to my chest. My heart palpitations accelerated once again as I tried to stabilize my breathing. I took a deep breath, allowing the oxygen to sip through my nose and keep me fucking alive.

I yanked the blanket over and rolled out of the bed.

I splashed some cold water on my face and raked both hands through my hair, drenching the locks.

I was fucking fed up with these nightmares. Every time some shit happened, they struck more. And my situation with Hazel was the one to blame this time. Actually, I was the one to blame.

I couldn't stop thinking about her. My episodes varied between destructive anger and undeniable sorrow. How pathetically amusing my life was.

I loathed seeing her with that guy, it bugged every fiber in my being. But I also loathed myself for wanting her. She was everything I wasn't. Hazel was the most kind-hearted, selfless, and pure girl I had ever seen. Sure, she had a tendency to indulge in trouble but she was bold enough to embrace.

She was too good.

And I wasn't.

I was nothing like that. I wasn't the guy she would want to be with. Why would a girl like her be with a complicated asshole with major anger issues and a reputation for temporary pleasure?

It didn't make sense.

And in every way that made sense, I wasn't good for her. At all.

And maybe she already figured that since she seemed to be happy with the right guy. Which was good.

I wanted her to be happy.

My head throbbed. A fucking lot. All I needed now was a cute little hangover to be the cherry on top. I wasn't a lightweight but damn, I didn't remember how much I had to drink last night.