Page 117 of King of Pain
I close my eyes, letting the ache of missing Ant wash over me like a tidal wave.
One day, I tell myself.
One day, I’ll get the message.
And when I do, I’ll fight like hell to make things right.
The cabin grows colder as the night deepens. I throw another log onto the fire, watching as the flames flicker higher, their light casting shadows across the walls.
I should go to bed soon. The supplies will be here before dawn, and I’ll need the energy to haul everything inside from the hired hand’s truck.
But thoughts of sleep are quickly replaced as my mind drifts again. That’s all there is to do here. Drift.
I wonder who he cooks for now. It makes my stomach—and my chest—growl.What I wouldn’t give for one of his meals.
I miss that.
I misshim.
The first few weeks here were the worst.
I didn’t think I’d make it. This cabin felt like a prison. The silence was unbearable at first. I wasn’t used to being alone, especially not like this. I’d always had people around, even when I didn’t want them there.
But here? There’s no one. No voices, no laughter. Murph gave me an old iPod, pre-loaded with ‘80s playlists when they first dropped me in the middle of nowhere, so I at least had music from the start.
It’s been an endless stretch of empty days ever since.
I’ve thought about leaving more than once. Just walking out into the woods and not stopping until I found something—anything—other than this. I could easily leave the country.
But I won’t.
Because I made a promise. One he’s never heard.
I will come back to you.
When that day comes, I’ll do whatever it takes to fix the wreckage I left behind. I’ll make things right with him.
If he’ll let me. I have to try.
I could risk it—live in any state I want, or even travel aimlessly. I could go back to Arizona and watch him from afar. I ran the risks of every option with The Doves, believe me. This was the only one that didn’t wind up with one of us dead.
The fire crackles softly as a log shifts, hissing and sending sparks up the chimney. My thoughts shift to Ma and how I failed her.
The guilt, paired with endless hours trapped in my own head, rips the wound open every single day. It’s like living inside my own personal version of that movieGroundhog Day—except it’s pain on a fucking loop instead of comedy.
Ma was the only good thing in a house that felt like a battlefield. She was my guide, my compass. She always tried to make me feel safe, even when she couldn’t keep herself safe.
And I wasn’t there when she needed me.
The guilt is a weight I’ll never be able to put down.
She didn’t deserve what happened to her.
When I got the call that night—the one that shattered my world—I couldn’t believe it. I kept thinking,There’s no way. Not her. She’s too strong.
But strength wasn’t enough.
My father made sure of that.
