Taylor

Chapter Fourteen

The brutal sting across my cheek seemed to snap me out of the stupidity that had come over me. I stared at the livid Luke, trying to process what I had just done.

"How dare you," he said lowly, clearly trying to rein in his anger. "I thought you'd grown up."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. It bubbled up inside of my chest and spilled out like a waterfall. "No, Luke. I'm still a fucked up child." I took another drink as he let out a long—very annoying—sigh.

He didn't say anything. Instead, he did what I wanted him to do. He left. But the moment the door shut behind him, I felt empty. I should have apologized, not made some snarky comment. I took another drink and sat back down on the couch, leaning back until my head was resting against the backrest. I could still apologize to him later when I wasn't feeling so drained and pathetic.

But for now, I just wanted to drink my whiskey and go to bed, putting this day behind me for the rest of my life. Or until I remembered it again and wanted to punch myself. This time I let out the long, annoying sigh as I thought about Emily. She most certainly didn't like me now, and obviously I couldn't blame her. Even I was having a hard time coming to terms with what I had done. It didn't matter that it was an accident. It meant I was a ticking time bomb—worse than I had thought.

It's not like I hadn't been warned. I had. But I had dismissed it because nightmares and pain weren't that big of a deal to me. I had been told it could turn into something more serious, I just hadn't realized it was choking-an-innocent-woman serious. And I couldn't get the image out of my head. It continued to replay over and over. Just another memory to torment me until the day I die.

A half-past eleven, there was a knock on the door and I knew exactly who it was. Which is why I ignored it. When the knock sounded again, I got up, turned all the lights off, and went to bed. I wasn't going to talk to Emily. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not again. She was safer far away from me. Everyone was.

~*~

"Quit? What do you mean you quit? Why?" Sabrina was clearly irritated, but I couldn't give a crap even if I wanted to.

"I don't need the job anymore. Just mail me the last paycheck." I hung the phone up and ignored the callback.

There were other ways to make money that didn't involve Luke. Hopefully. But even if there weren't, I didn't need the money. What I did need was a drink; I drove to the nearest liquor store and got my usual before grabbing a pizza and heading back home.

Will was sitting on my front porch when I arrived. I parked the truck in the garage and went inside. He didn't knock, and for a while, I stared at the door wondering if I should bother opening it. I almost didn't, but my curiosity got the better of me. Will would never come here unless he had a good reason or at least a good reason for him. I finally opened the front door.

"What do you want?" I tried to sound as neutral as possible, I didn't want to start anything.

"I heard about last night."

"Of course you did," I scoffed and threw my hands up. "If you think I need a lecture, you're wrong."

"I didn't come here to lecture you."

"Then what do you want?" I repeated.

"To know why you don't get help for your PTSD."

I stared at him in surprise. I had expected him to tell me off for what I did, not this. "Is that really any of your business?"

"No," he said honestly. "But I understand what PTSD is like. What I don't understand is why it's that bad and you haven't gotten help."

Once again, he took me by surprise. For a moment, all I could do was stare at him. How would he know anything about it? But he had my curiosity piqued. I stepped aside and opened the door, allowing him to come in. After gesturing for him to sit on the couch, I plopped down on the beanbag chair.