Hopeless Vows (24 page)

Austin calls it growing pains, but we’ve managed, adjusting and compromising with each other. For all the little shit that drives me nuts, his good qualities make up for it tenfold. He’s funny, attentive, smart, and sexy as hell. There’s still so much we have to learn about each other, but I’m optimistic about our future.

I haven’t spoken to Janey since I left the diner two weeks ago. Just thinking about the things she said to me makes my blood boil. It’s not that I don’t understand what she’s saying. Trust me, I do. I’ve tortured myself over it since I walked down the aisle. But where does she get off judging me? Shouldn’t she be supportive and want me to be happy?

I unlock the door, barely managing not to drop the bags of groceries in my arms. Silence meets my ears as I walk in and set the bags on the kitchen counter. Humming along to a song that’s trapped in my head, I pull all the ingredients out of the sacks, placing them on the counter. Since I’ll need everything for the dinner I’m making, there’s no sense in putting it all away.

“Cassandra.” I’m startled by his unexpected presence, but it’s his dead tone that sends a chill up my spine. My eyes widen as my whole body freezes and I forget how to breathe.

Oh, God.

No.

This can’t be happening.

“That is your
real
name, right?” he sneers. The hate in his words bounces off the quiet walls, hitting me square in the chest.

I don’t answer. I don’t move. I’m absolutely terrified to turn around and see his expression.

“Answer me!” he yells, causing me to jump.

My body trembles from head to toe as I swallow hard, garnering every ounce of strength I possess to force myself to face him. When I do, I gasp for air, my lungs refusing to function as I take in the Austin standing in front of me.

His eyes have dark circles under them that are accentuated by his ashen skin, giving him a sickly look. His hair is in utter disarray, and his shirt is wrinkled and half tucked. But it’s his eyes that make me feel hollow inside. They’re vacant, completely dead and void of any emotion. The exuberant man I fell in love with is gone, replaced by a shell of a man who looks completely broken.

And I’m to blame.

My eyes well up with tears and my throat tightens with clogged emotion.

“I asked you a fucking question!” The empty expression is quickly replaced by anger, his face becoming red the longer I stand here in silence.

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. With my vocal chords failing me, the only thing I can do is nod with my eyes downcast. I don’t want to see the look of disgust and hatred on his face now that I’ve confirmed what he already knows. Tears run down my face as my eyes close, but I quickly dash them away with the back of my hand.

“You bitch,” he spits at me, taking me off guard. My head snaps up, making eye contact with two, dark pools of rage. “Did you know?” I stare back at him pleadingly. “Did you know!” His fist slams onto the kitchen island as he yells at me. The impact startles me, causing me to gasp.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“How long?” he asks through a clenched jaw.

I swallow hard again in an effort to relax the tightness in my throat. “S-since the w-wedding,” I stutter unable to hide the fear in my voice. I see the love of my life slipping away, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Worse, it’s all my fault.

Within seconds, I see realization hit. “That’s why you stopped halfway down the aisle, isn’t it?” His eyes are wide with disbelief, my deceit rearing its ugly, poisonous head. Pressing my lips together, a single tear rolls down my face as I nod.

His hands push through his hair and slide down his face. He looks up at the ceiling and shakes his head as he lets out a humorless laugh. “Wow, it all makes sense now. Always changing the subject when our families got brought up. How you’d get uncomfortable when I’d talk about my parents and their death. Here I thought your parents were dead, and that’s why you didn’t want to talk about them.”

“They’re dead to me!” I shout, my emotions getting the better of me as I point to my chest.

“No!” He rushes toward me, the deadly look on his face terrifying me. I retreat on shaky legs until my back hits the pantry door. His palm slams up against the door next to my head. The sound echoing in my eardrum. I bite my lip to suppress the cry that threatens to come out. “They’re not!
My
whole fucking family is dead.” He’s in my face, spit hitting me as he screams until his voice cracks. “Yours are very much alive. They’re just in prison.” He pulls back, looking at me like I’d imagine he’d look at my mom and dad. There’s nothing but loathing and repulsion in his eyes. “But they belong in hell.” His hoarse tone pierces my heart.

The walls are closing in on me. My body is cold and clammy and I can’t catch my breath. My vision blurs as the room spins. I hold onto the doorknob of the pantry to steady myself.

“What was this then? Some sick joke? Were you just going to lead me on to see how far you could take this?”

He might as well have slapped me across the face. I’ve lied, yes, but how could he ever doubt my feelings for him? “No. You know we were contractually obligated to follow through with the marriage and the show. I thought I could get through it and we’d go our separate ways, but I couldn’t walk away. I love you.” I whisper the last part as my voice breaks.

He visible cringes at my admission. “You don’t have to worry about walking away because I’m out. My lawyer will be in touch.” He moves toward the front door and I spring into action as panic grips me.

“No, please!” I manage to block his path to the door and grab his hand. Austin yanks it away from me, causing me to lose my balance. I fall to my knees at his feet with a harsh bang. The cold, hard tile is unforgiving as pain travels up my whole leg. I make no attempts to stand, no longer having the strength to hold myself up as I watch my world fall apart. “I’m so sorry, Austin. You have to believe that, but please don’t leave. I’m begging you. Just let me explain!”

“I don’t even know you.” His monotone voice is back, crushing me even more. I’d rather him be angry than indifferent.

“Yes, you do. I’m still—”

“No,” he says, cutting me off. Looking down at me with glassy eyes, he continues. “All I know is when I was ten, I walked into my home to find my mom, dad, and sister murdered. And your parents did it.” He looks back toward the front door, his need to leave evident. “I wish I’d never met you,” he says quietly, anger replaced by defeat. With that, he walks past my slumped over body and leaves. The door slams shut behind him, giving finality to not only this conversation, but to our relationship as well.

The most gut wrenching sob rips from my body while I start to hyperventilate. Curling into the fetal position on the floor as my body shakes violently, I’m transported back to the day that would change my life forever.

The sound of my stomach growling is nothing new. Mommy and Daddy forget to feed me a lot. Probably because they’re never home. When they are, they spend most of their time sleeping. Honestly, I like it that way because when Daddy is awake, he’s always angry. I try really hard to be on my best behavior and not complain, but it doesn’t matter. He finds something to be upset about and uses his fists to deal with it.

Neither one of them are home right now. I think it’s been two days since I’ve seen them. The small apartment we live in is starting to smell, and we ran out of toilet paper last night. Picking through the garbage can, I look for any scrap of food to hold off my hunger. But I know I won’t find anything in there. When I do get to eat, there are no leftovers. I should really try to save some for later next time.

I jump up when the front door swings open so hard, it hits the back wall and makes the whole place shake.

“Shit! What are we going to do?” Daddy paces back and forth, clutching his hair in his hands.

“We have to make a run for it. No one knows they’re dead yet. We can still make it.”

Dead? What are they talking about?

“Mommy?” I walk slowly around the corner, coming into view. When I can finally see her, I’m shocked. She looks dirtier than usual, her hair is matted and dark spots are smeared all over her clothes.

“Fuck, I forgot about her.” Daddy says, pointing to me angrily.

“We’ll have to take her with us,” Mommy tells him.

“Goddammit!” my daddy yells up at the ceiling. “If you weren’t such a stupid fucking bitch, none of this would be happening right now!”

“It’s not my fault! You said they weren’t home. We were just supposed to get in and get out, remember?”

“We don’t have time for this. Hurry up, grab some shit, and let’s get the fuck out of here.” Five minutes later, we’re running toward the car and headed to who knows where.

I didn’t know it at the time, but both of my parents would be wanted for murder. It was a robbery gone wrong is what the news said. They were both cokeheads, doing whatever it takes to get their next high. They went in to the James’ residence to burglarize it and were surprised when Mrs. James caught them. My mom panicked and shot her in the chest. The noise from the gun obviously got the attention of everyone else in the house. Mr. James ran downstairs to find his wife lying in a pool of her own blood.

Mom took aim at him too, but he dove before she could fire and missed him. They wrestled around for a few seconds before Dad came up and stabbed Mr. James in the back. Fifteen stab wounds later, and Dad was satisfied he was dead. They rolled his body off of my mother but were surprised again when they turned around to see a little girl standing in the doorway watching the whole thing in terror. Not willing to leave any witnesses, my mom picked her gun back up and shot her in the head. They fled the scene before the cops could be called.

We were on the run for four weeks. Even though I had no idea what was going on, I could feel the tension and fear coming off of my parents. I knew something was wrong and that it was bad. They robbed a few convenience stores along the way to get money for the two things they wanted most: drugs and freedom.

I spent most nights sleeping in the back of our beat-up car while they drove through the darkest parts of neighborhoods looking for the one thing that started all of this.

Cocaine.

Eventually, the police caught up with us, immediately arrested them, and put me in child protective services. I spent a little time in foster care, bouncing around from one uncaring home to the next before the state was able to locate my closest relative.

I had never met my grandmother before. At least, not that I remember. She pretty much disowned my mother many years ago. I’d like to say growing up with her was pleasant, but it wasn’t. It’s not that she was mean, and it was a lot better than my living conditions before, but she didn’t seem to care. I think I reminded her too much of my mother. She never talked, never hugged me, never helped me with problems at school, nothing. She provided the basics and that was it.

Over time, I began to hate her too. I resented the poor old woman for giving birth to such a vile human being. As soon as I graduated high school, I packed up, changed my name, and never looked back.

My cheeks sting from the constant stream of tears, the acid from my dark heart pouring out and burning my skin. I thought I had escaped my past and moved on, but I was wrong. Really, no one can escape the demons that haunt you. All you can do is run and hope it never catches up. This time, I wasn’t fast enough.

IT MUST BE
hours since I’ve moved from this spot curled up on the floor. The crying finally stopped after I began hyperventilating and couldn’t catch my breath. Now I lay here, staring blankly off into space. I don’t blink. I don’t think. I hardly breathe. I merely exist.

My body is stiff with achy pains shooting through my joints from the lack of movement as the hard floor digs into my bones. The sun has long since set into the distance and I allow the darkness to blanket me, to shield me from the horror of my life. Daylight brings clarity. The dark brings ambiguity. But as my fractured heart beats its weak, unsteady rhythm, I know that’s a lie. Regardless of what time of day it is, reality is flashing at me in neon lights, reminding me of everything I’ve lost.