Page 77 of Liam

"Fuck!" I beat the air with my fists, then rolled back from the top of the stairs. I transferred onto the chairlift and shoved my wheelchair, sending it crashing to the ground floor.

With any luck, it would be damaged; ripped apart, and shredded like my heart.

My family came running.

"Oh, my god, what's going on with you?" Meera clung to my shoulders.

I swept her away from me. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Jamal."

"Not now, Meera."

David ran down the stairs and lifted my chair to put it back on its wheels. Mamma had her mouth covered, crying. I'd terrified her. I hadn't meant to do that to her.

I'd been selfish.

My only excuse—I was existing in a whole new level of anguish.

"Back right wheel's bent," David reported. "I'll get your old chair from the garage."

I nodded and rode the chairlift to the bottom of the stairs. I slung my arms around David's neck as he lifted and carried me to my bedroom. Thankfully, he didn't ask me what was wrong.

He deposited me on my bed.

I leaned against my headboard and stared at my phone.

Liam.

I can't live without him.

And I couldn't live without knowing. Without knowing if Liam still wanted to be with me after I told him what I'd done. Without knowing if Liam might be capable of loving me.

I selected his name on my phone and listened to it ring.

"I thought we were finished," he answered.

"Liam, I haven't told you everything. If you decide we're finished after I do … I'll accept it. But right now, I'm finding it impossible to let you go. You're wrapped too tight around my heart."

I could hear Liam swallow.

I continued. "I have a past you don't know about. I've told you about Richard, but I never told you why we broke up. Not really. Yes, we drifted, but there was more to it than that."

After clearing my throat, I carried on. "I was angry after my accident. Angry I'd lost the use of my legs. Angry that the car hadn't killed me. My despair sometimes boiled into vicious rage, and I used to lash out. Mostly at those whom I loved. I guess they were an easy target.

"Richard was a saint and he took a lot of crap from me. I treated him horribly, Liam, I was so wrapped up in my own mourning. It never occurred to me he was mourning too. Our life as we'd known it was over. Our hopes, our dream of children, everything … it all seemed over."

I scrubbed tears off my face. My story would be more difficult from here.

"I was being torn apart by anguish and I was so furious at the world, I started abusing Richard. First verbally … and then hitting him and ramming him with my wheelchair. He took it. He loved me and just took it. Most days I didn't even feel guilty. I wanted him to hate me. It infuriated me even more that he didn't hate me. I didn't deserve him. I didn't deserve anyone.

"The night before he left me, I shoved him. I shoved him with so much force he fell over and cracked his head on the edge of the dresser in our bedroom. He had to go to the hospital. He needed twenty stitches and had a slight concussion. The police pressed charges against me when Richard told them what I'd done. What I'd been doing to him. He'd had enough."

Liam remained silent but I could hear him breathing.

"I was found guilty of domestic assault and received three months probation."

Liam cleared his throat. "Why didn't you tell me all this before now?"

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