Authors: Layla Harding
Cut (16 page)
I wanted to be selfish. I wanted to stay by that bed, holding his hand. I wanted the world to stop. I wanted to hear him call me a pup again, tell me what page we left off on, and that he loved me. But most of all, I wanted his pain to be over.
“Thank you, Ken. I love you. It’s okay.”
It felt like his fingers curled around mine and squeezed, if only for a moment. The rhythmic ticks and bleeps stopped. There was only the continuous single bleat from the heart monitor. The nurse came over and turned it off.
She checked his pulse for the sake of formality and patted my arm. “I am so sorry, honey. Please take your time.”
I looked at James. This wasn’t it, was it? He wasn’t really gone? The tears pouring down his face answered my questions.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t feel anything except the hurt. Something was sitting on my chest. Something was clawing at my heart. There was something burrowing through my brain.
“Persephone, he loved you so much.” He leaned down and kissed Ken’s forehead. “I love you, my friend. You will be missed. You were one of the good ones.”
“I can’t let go, James. I just can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Come on, sweet pea. It’s going to be okay.”
James led me out of the ICU, through the hallways and out to the car. We didn’t talk on the way home. The house was empty and awful. It felt like someone had come in and moved everything a few inches off center.
I went to my bedroom as James started a pot of coffee. The piano was waiting for me. I played ‘Amazing Grace’ and heard James crying in the kitchen. Later, we would comfort each other. Tonight, we wrapped ourselves in grief for our lost friend.
James went to the hospital the next morning to take care of the paperwork and arrangements. It seemed so cold and formal. I pretended to be asleep when he left. I was still lying in bed, staring at the sun coming through the window when I heard the doorbell. I assumed it was Maggie. I had texted her when we got home but told her I didn’t feel like talking. I would call her later. I didn’t even bother looking out the window before answering the door.
I was unprepared to see my father standing there.
“Well, young lady, I’m assuming you’re quite proud of yourself? Little stunt you pulled with your mom? She called me in hysterics last night. I took the red eye in from Alabama. Now you go get your stuff and get your ass in the car.” He made a grab for my arm. I pulled away and backed a few steps into the house.
Who was I to stand up to him?
You are the badass in training. The Marine by proxy.
I didn’t have any strength left to fight.
You are wounded, but you will heal.
I was nothing.
He loved you so much, sweet pea.
Those voices, they would always be a part of me. No matter where I went, they would go with me. And no matter what enemy I was facing, there would always be two Marines standing guard behind me. “Oorah.”
“Excuse me? I told you to move your ass.”
“Go to hell.” He opened his mouth to say something. “No, shut up and listen. You are a worthless piece of shit. If you ever,
ever
come near me or anyone I care about ever again, I will tell everyone and anyone who will listen exactly who you are and what you do. Do you understand me?”
He laughed. “Honestly, Persephone, who’s going to believe—”
“It will only take one,
Dad
. One person who even thinks there’s a possibility it might be true and everything is over for you. You don’t get to be in control anymore. You don’t get to hurt me. Get the hell out of my life. You are nothing to me. Nothing, do you understand?” I was yelling by now, walking towards him, backing him down the driveway.
“Persephone, if you don’t get in this car right now, you are never welcome to my home again. Never. You won’t get a dime from us. We will no longer have a daughter. Is that what you want?”
It was my turn to laugh. “More than you will ever know.”
“Fine. To hell with you then, you little ungrateful bitch.”
There were so many things I wanted to say. So many vile, disgusting things I could have hurled at him. But it was enough to see him get in his car and drive away.
Oorah, kiddo, oorah.
I never went back to my mother and father’s house. James stayed with me at Ken’s until it was time for me to leave for college. Together, we loaded my small car and the back of his truck with clothes and dorm furnishings. There were students there to help me carry everything to my room, so he didn’t have to. We said our goodbyes in the parking lot.
“Ken would have been so proud of you.”
I tried hard not to cry but didn’t succeed.
I graduated with my degree in counseling and immediately found a job at a crisis center two blocks from the apartment I lived in alone. It was there I met Adam. After our third date, I told him everything—why there were scars all over my body, why he would most likely never meet my parents, and, most importantly, about Ken. Adam didn’t say a word while I talked. He held my hand and listened.
Finally, when I took a breath, he gently turned my wrist over and kissed the scars there. “I know I can’t heal these, but can I help you try?”
We were married six months later at a small bed and breakfast in Eureka Springs. It wasn’t fancy, but neither were we. James stood by my side, and when the minister asked who gives this woman, he answered, “I do.”
Adam and I put off going to Springfield as long as we could, claiming busy schedules and clients who needed us. I didn’t feel particularly bad about this. Mom could have driven south just as easily.
A few months before our two-year anniversary, Mom called, hysterical. Dad was in the hospital, massive heart attack. I didn’t want to go. There was nothing I could do. Nothing I wanted to do. It took Adam close to three hours to convince me I needed, for my own sake, to go say goodbye. It was the first time we had ever fought.
We packed our overnight bags and got on the road. He died before we got there. I would like to say I cried, but I didn’t.
Three years later, our son was born. Austin James. His favorite blanket is an old Marine Corps fleece that still smells like vanilla and sandalwood.
First and foremost I want to thank my family. My amazing husband and daughter, Dana and Hannah, who supported and believed in me every step of the way. You two are my everything, and I love you.
I have two sisters, a brother, two brothers-in-law, a sister-in-law, two nephews, and a niece (Jenn, Tom, Chelsea, Jeff, Kyle, Erin, Brady, TJ, and Harper) all within a fifteen minute drive. The close proximity may drive us all to drink sometimes, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I couldn’t have done this without all of you.
And my mom and dad, Charley and Lisa Slavens. You two taught me what being a real hero means. Your love, compassion, and unwavering support mean more than I will ever be able to find words to express.
Thank you to my ever-patient editors, Evangeline Jennings and Lucy Middlemass. They deserve sainthood after putting up with me during this process. If you liked the book, thank them. If you didn’t, blame me. It means I didn’t take their advice when I should have.
And finally, thank you. Thank you for giving me a little piece of your time and letting me share Persephone’s story with you. You are the reason I write.
Layla Harding, June 2015
In 2013, approximately 679,000 children were victims of abuse.
A portion of the proceeds from this book will be donated to The Child Advocacy Center in Springfield, Missouri. For more information, please visit their website at www.childadvocacycenter.org
C
OMING
S
OON FROM
P
ANKHEARST
IRST
G
IRL ON THE
M
OON
LUCY MIDDLEMASS & EVANGELINE JENNINGS
A Young Adult Collection
Brothers and sisters
Fathers and daughters
First loves
Second thoughts
Elizabeth is furious
Felicity isn’t happy
Magda’s family won’t answer the phone
Isobel is smitten
Vivienne is going to fuck her sister's boyfriend
And me—the girl without a name? I'm all about Alex
And Alex is the first girl on the Moon.
A
LSO
A
VAILABLE FROM
P
ANKHEARST
INGLES
CLUB
Niagara
by Evangeline Jennings (January)
End Credits
by Simon Paul Wilson (February)
Three
by Pete Marchetto (March)
Mothers
by Lucy Middlemass (April)
No Exit
by Dan Holloway (May)
Bewitched
by Kate Garrett (June)
Valentina
by Evangeline Jennings (July)
Mini
by Tee Tyson (August)
Convertible
by Jane Bradley and Lucy Middlemass (September)
Frontier
by Miriam Vaswani (October)
Suck
by Charlotte Aspin (November)
No Christmas
by Evangeline Jennings (December)
St Rage
by Karen Eisenbrey (January 2015)
The Wrong Guy
by Pat Black (February 2015)
Wilfrid Moore's Eventful Day
by Rosie Gailor (March 2015)
In The Jungle You Must Wait
by Jeremy Johnson (April 2015)
EATHERS
Edited by Lucy Middlemass and ER McTaggart
Twenty four bittersweet slices of teenage life,
Heathers
tells adolescence the way it is – a struggle. Expect no handsome princes or unicorns. This book comes with a body count. Heroin or ice cream, what's your damage?
A collection of true fiction for Young Adults of all ages,
Heathers
is the work of writers from the US, UK, Spain, Canada, and China.
ERMAIDS AND
M
OREMAIDS
Edited by Evangeline Jennings and Lucy Middlemass
People like us. A planet like ours. Where five out of every ten teenagers won't live to see twenty-one. For Young Adults of all ages, these are stories of the Flood.
IDING
I
N
C
ARS
W
ITH
G
IRLS
A sequel of sorts to
Cars & Girls
, Evangeline Jennings'
Riding In Cars With Girls
is available now at all good Amazons everywhere.
"A smashing, original collection likely to be read again and again."
Kirkus Reviews
"Very clever stories crammed with thrills and twists, I can't recommend this read highly enough."
Julie Shaw, Sunday Times best selling author
"Consistently tightly-paced, audacious and action-driven. In signature Jennings style, characters are damaged, damned and dangerous, and never quite what they seem. With her recognisably distinctive, dynamic and subversive voice, Jennings' narrators take us on a twisting, twisted joyride with sex, violence and secrets at each sharp and screeching turn."
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