DISCLAIMER:
This book contains mature subject matter and triggering topics that may not be suitable for every reader.
• • •
"What is it that I always tell you, Winona? You'll always come back to me. A bird never forgets its home."
Winona Horton ha...
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August 2010 • • •
There was a knife and there was blood.
But before that, there was an argument. A confrontation. She had just concluded a conversation with Harry, over the payphone, which left her feeling conflicted and uncertain. As she entered the familiar space, her senses were immediately assaulted by an air of tension that was almost palpable. Her boyfriend, standing at the top of the grand staircase, was the embodiment of anger, bitterness, and resentment.
"I just went out for a walk, I swear. I couldn't sleep." Winona's voice, usually a warm and inviting sound, was now strained and thin, unrecognizable even to her own ears. "Where are Jessica and Kade?"
"She left when I got back. He's still at the club with Jacob."
Step by step, he descended the staircase like a shadow from the depths of her nightmares, cloaking the space with his suffocating aura. The only thought going through her mind was Harry. More importantly, whether she would make it back to him after tonight. "Wes..."
"All of this is your fucking fault," he told her, his even tone in conflict with the wry smile he sported. A frigid chill travelled down her spine and froze her feet on the hardwood floor. "What was I thinking? Running away to California with you? Hiding from the cops? Killing a man because of you? I was out of my mind. I was so out of my mind."
When he made it to the bottom of the staircase, she took a step back but was stopped by his ire-filled gaze. "I know it's my fault. I'm sorry, Wes. If I could take it all back, I would."
His laughter was thunder and he moved with the speed of lightning; his fingers curled around the front of her shirt as he dragged her toward the steps without warning. That sound was hysteria. It was anger. It was fear. It was chaos. It grew louder and louder, prattling in her ears, the tears welling in her eyes matching the tempo like rain during a storm. She clawed at his hands and kicked, trying to twist herself out of his grip and race to the front door.
"Stop fucking moving!" The slap he gave her held every ounce of disdain and contempt he had for her; it was sharp and sudden. Her face stung as though a thousand needles were pricking her skin. And his grip loosened purposely, granting her wish of escape. But his assault had weakened her, and her unsteady legs buckled beneath her. She missed the step and lost her footing as she crashed and plummeted down the flight of stairs.
"You ruined my life!" He was at her side in an instant, his fingers tightly latched onto her hair. Winona involuntarily let out a shattering scream. "You stupid bitch! You ruined everything for me!"
He sucked in the air as if it had become too thick to breathe. "I had a future." His blunt nails dug into her scalp. "I could have had a career. I got out of that place years ago but now I'll be going right back." He pulled on her hair and tilted her head back, his features twisted and morphed into a caricature she didn't recognize. This couldn't have been Wes. This couldn't have been what she left Homestead for. "You took that from me. I ran away because I was so convinced that I cared but... you don't care. You only care about Harry, not me. Not this. So it's useless. You made everything useless!"
