The girls are trying to figure out what’s wrong with me, but I can’t stomach telling them. I called Nik last night and begged him to tell me where he was, but he said Ash never told him where he was going. So now Nik knows. He said, “Give him time, sweetheart. He’s got a lot to deal with. The demons in his h
ead are sometimes stronger than he is. ”
So now someone knocks on his door and my heart pounds. I automatically think the worst. I imagine it’s a couple of officers standing there, bracing themselves to tell Asher’s loved one that he won’t be coming home. Ever.
My gut twists and tears blur my vision.
I may not have been loved back but he was my loved one.
Unable to stand not knowing, I throw open my door and glance down the hall. A tall, older woman stands there. She turns to face me. I get a good look at her face and immediately I know who she is. My face voids of any emotion and I ask, “Can I help you?”
She asks politely, “Excuse me. I was just looking for my son. Do you know Asher Collins? I’m Grace. ”
My heart races in anger and my breathing heavies. Rage twists my gut and I flush.
Grace.
I want to punch this woman in the throat. No wonder Ash threw his phone at a wall. It was his mother calling.
How dare she come here?
She’s dressed like any other mom. This could’ve been my mom. Wearing white linen pants and a light yellow blouse, she looks as if she could be Mother of the Year. Her hair’s styled in a short, neat bob. She looks prim and proper.
Oh my, how looks can be deceiving.
My blood boils and before I can control it, my mouth opens and hate flies out. “Oh no, mommy. You have no right to be here. How dare you come here?”
Her face becomes pained. Her eyes… Asher has her eyes. She opens her mouth to speak but I cut her off. I glare at her through narrowed eyes and tell her, “He is not your son. In order for him to be your son, you would’ve had to protect him at some point in your dismal life. But you didn’t. Did you?”
Her face crumbles, and I get a twisted sense of pleasure knowing that I’m hurting her. I spit, “Despite all the ugliness you helped put in his life, he survived. You know you helped put that ugliness there, don’t you?” Tears of rage pour down my face. I croak, “You stood there while your husband burnt holes into him, cut him like a piece of meat, beat him and broke his bones. You did nothing to stop that. You should be ashamed of yourself. ”
She covers her mouth with her hand, closes her eyes and silently sobs.
I need to make her hurt. I want her heart to break.
I say quietly, “You can forget about him…because he forgot about you a long time ago. And I am not a hateful person, but I hate you and your husband both the same. If there is any justice in this world, his daddy will be shoveling shit in hell. You aren’t his mother. You are nothing. I am his family. ”
I stop to take a good look at this woman. This awful, awful woman. I tell her, “Don’t ever come back here, Grace. ” Then I turn on my heel and head back into my apartment.
Once inside, I rest my back on the door, cover my face in my hands and cry. Sliding down the door, I cry harder.
Sobs tear out of my throat and my heart breaks some more.
Come home, Ash.
***
God, whiskey tastes like ass.
Cringing as I take another sip, I really have no idea how he drank this shit almost every day of his adult life.
Sitting on my father’s grave, staring into it as if it’ll bring me some answers to the questions I don’t know how to ask, I wonder if he can see me right now.
My father is dead because of me.
I killed him without a bat of an eyelash.
He was a bad man.