Page 98 of Not Made to Last

“Hey, Grandma. Grandpa. Dom and I—we’re not doing the best, and if you could see us right now, you’d be so disappointed. You used to always say that the family we create means more than the family who created us, and I think, sometimes, we forget that…”

54

Rhys

The world is crimson, made of nothing but blood and the flames that blaze inside me. I press my cheek to the floor, my eyes drifting shut when the cool concrete coats my flesh. Broken bones held to my stomach, I choke on the blood filling my airways, spreading through my lungs.

Suffocating me.

In the distance, their laughter fades along with their footsteps, and I wish it did something to ease my fears.

I groan when the pain soars, ricochets through me with every beat of my heart, thump thump, thump thump, and I wish I could die.

Not would, butcould.

I wish I could take my own life and not care how much it would hurt my family. My sister, especially. I wish I could end it all and fall into the darkness and never come up for light.

I wish I could die.

I wish I had the strength not to flinch the next time Williams put his gun to my throat for his own sick, twisted pleasure.

I wish my eyes didn’t convey my fear when the metal pressed against my neck.

I wish I could look into his deranged eyes and beg him to pull the trigger.

I wish?—

Footfalls sound, coming nearer, and my eyes snap open as I gasp for air. I try to move, try to hide, but my body is as broken as my spirit. Black leather boots beneath a gray guard uniform fill the doorway, fill my vision. He drops to his knees, in the middle of the utility room, and places a hand on my shoulder, rolling me to my back. His name tag reads Murphy, but he tells us to call him Curtis. “Jesus, Garrett, what the fuck happened to you?”

I gasp awake, sitting upright, and blink blink blink the darkness away. “Alexa, lights,” I murmur, inhaling only when the room fills with brightness.

I throw the covers off me and rush to the bathroom, my hands immediately finding the light switch, then the tap. I run the cold water until it’s almost freezing, then splash it on my face, again and again, until my head, neck, and shoulders are soaked.

I breathe.

One more time.

Every time.

Until my pulse finds a rhythm that doesn’t make my entire body tremble. Throat dry, I glance up at the vent in the bathroom, knowing exactly what’s there and how I could use it.

I wish I could die…

But I don’t.

Not in this life.

When I’ve reached a level of calm trustworthy enough to move, I grab my phone from my side table and exit the poolhouse from the bedroom doors. It’s dark out, but the pool lights give off enough light that I can see my surroundings.

I sit on a lounge chair and peer over at the window of my parents’ bedroom. The lights are off. My mom is home, but my dad…

“Your dad’s not dead, Rhys. You still have time to make it right. If you want to.”

Olivia’s words have replayed in my mind so many times I’ve lost count.

After our conversation tonight, I’m not at all surprised that the nightmares came to pay a visit. Though, to be fair, it wasn’t just Liv who triggered all the fucked-up memories to return. Mainly, it was when andhowmy mom’s need tofix mecame to light.

With a sigh, I check the time on my phone—it’s just after 2 a.m. here, so just after midnight in Colorado. My dad will most likely be asleep, but I have to stop making excuses to keep putting this off.

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