color Sonia’s room would be.
And then she thought about Eric, just across the clearing, so close to her. What if she just walked over there and knocked on his door? Took off her clothes and climbed in to his bed, kissed him and took him in to her body? She wondered if he’d make love to her all night again; she wondered if she’d want it for more than one more night.
She shook her head.
Cold feet, girl. Totally normal. Focus.
She finished the wine and got to her feet. She went in to the kitchen and poured another glass. She stood and stared at the bowl and wondered how it was going to feel to die.
Chapter Seven
Vicky raced to Open Skies Ranch, praying to God that her intuition was wrong. She had been wrong so many times in her life, about so many things, and she hoped this was just one more time and thing.
Deep down inside, though, she knew she was right. She knew what it looked like to slowly give up. She knew full well that sometimes, losing a war happened one small crushing defeat at a time. It was one tiny thing and then another, and then one day, one last tiny thing happened and you just couldn’t take anymore. That was the tiny thing that could kill you.
Oh, sure. Over Annabeth’s most recent three or four visits, Vicky had seen her face increasingly take on that look, the look of a woman losing herself one piece at a time. But Vicky had also read her blog and her books, and she had believed what Annabeth had written about healing and getting stronger. That the bad days were fewer and fewer; that she was open to loving someone again. Vicky remembered how overjoyed she had been when she’d read that: she had been cheering Annabeth on, wishing her love and happiness with someone new, when she was ready.
Maybe she wanted to mean it all? Maybe she thought that if she said it and wrote it enough times, it would be true? Maybe the person most fooled and deluded by Annabeth was Annabeth?
Annabeth had given it her best shot, Vicky knew, but she wasn’t going to win this battle against the creeping darkness. Or so she thought. Vicky was determined to convince her otherwise, convince her to get some help and talk and be honest.
Assuming she got there in time.
She pulled up to Annabeth’s cabin and jumped out. She ran on to the front porch, noticing that the front window blinds were drawn and there was a light on inside.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Annabeth!” she said knocking. “Are you there?”
No answer.
She tried the door. Locked.
I swear to God, I will break this door down.
“Annabeth! I know you’re in there… open up right now or I’ll throw a rock through the fucking window!”
She was just looking around for a rock big enough when she heard a noise. She turned and saw the door swing open.
Annabeth was standing there holding a glass of wine.
Vicky hurried over to her, pushed past her, slammed the door, looked around. When she saw the pills on the counter, she blanched.
“How many? How many have you taken?”
Annabeth stared at her blankly. Vicky shook her, hard. The wine spilled all over the floor.
“Annabeth! How many?”
“None.”
“…None?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Vicky heaved a sigh of relief.
“I wanted to… I really did. But I just couldn’t go through with it.”
“Thank God.”
Annabeth and Vicky looked at each other.
“How did you know?” Annabeth asked.
“Because, hon. I know all about thinking you just can’t go on.”
Annabeth’s eyes filled with tears and she started to cry. The sobs burst out of her hard, and Vicky knew that they had just been sitting there in her chest for a long time, waiting to come out. She held out her arms. Annabeth stepped in to them, and the women sank to the floor. Vicky held her as she sobbed and wailed, rocked her back and forth.
“It’s OK, Annabeth. You’re going to be OK now.”
Annabeth held on to her, finding comfort in Vicky’s warmth and words. Somehow, she found them just as soothing as
And then she thought about Eric, just across the clearing, so close to her. What if she just walked over there and knocked on his door? Took off her clothes and climbed in to his bed, kissed him and took him in to her body? She wondered if he’d make love to her all night again; she wondered if she’d want it for more than one more night.
She shook her head.
Cold feet, girl. Totally normal. Focus.
She finished the wine and got to her feet. She went in to the kitchen and poured another glass. She stood and stared at the bowl and wondered how it was going to feel to die.
Chapter Seven
Vicky raced to Open Skies Ranch, praying to God that her intuition was wrong. She had been wrong so many times in her life, about so many things, and she hoped this was just one more time and thing.
Deep down inside, though, she knew she was right. She knew what it looked like to slowly give up. She knew full well that sometimes, losing a war happened one small crushing defeat at a time. It was one tiny thing and then another, and then one day, one last tiny thing happened and you just couldn’t take anymore. That was the tiny thing that could kill you.
Oh, sure. Over Annabeth’s most recent three or four visits, Vicky had seen her face increasingly take on that look, the look of a woman losing herself one piece at a time. But Vicky had also read her blog and her books, and she had believed what Annabeth had written about healing and getting stronger. That the bad days were fewer and fewer; that she was open to loving someone again. Vicky remembered how overjoyed she had been when she’d read that: she had been cheering Annabeth on, wishing her love and happiness with someone new, when she was ready.
Maybe she wanted to mean it all? Maybe she thought that if she said it and wrote it enough times, it would be true? Maybe the person most fooled and deluded by Annabeth was Annabeth?
Annabeth had given it her best shot, Vicky knew, but she wasn’t going to win this battle against the creeping darkness. Or so she thought. Vicky was determined to convince her otherwise, convince her to get some help and talk and be honest.
Assuming she got there in time.
She pulled up to Annabeth’s cabin and jumped out. She ran on to the front porch, noticing that the front window blinds were drawn and there was a light on inside.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Annabeth!” she said knocking. “Are you there?”
No answer.
She tried the door. Locked.
I swear to God, I will break this door down.
“Annabeth! I know you’re in there… open up right now or I’ll throw a rock through the fucking window!”
She was just looking around for a rock big enough when she heard a noise. She turned and saw the door swing open.
Annabeth was standing there holding a glass of wine.
Vicky hurried over to her, pushed past her, slammed the door, looked around. When she saw the pills on the counter, she blanched.
“How many? How many have you taken?”
Annabeth stared at her blankly. Vicky shook her, hard. The wine spilled all over the floor.
“Annabeth! How many?”
“None.”
“…None?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Vicky heaved a sigh of relief.
“I wanted to… I really did. But I just couldn’t go through with it.”
“Thank God.”
Annabeth and Vicky looked at each other.
“How did you know?” Annabeth asked.
“Because, hon. I know all about thinking you just can’t go on.”
Annabeth’s eyes filled with tears and she started to cry. The sobs burst out of her hard, and Vicky knew that they had just been sitting there in her chest for a long time, waiting to come out. She held out her arms. Annabeth stepped in to them, and the women sank to the floor. Vicky held her as she sobbed and wailed, rocked her back and forth.
“It’s OK, Annabeth. You’re going to be OK now.”
Annabeth held on to her, finding comfort in Vicky’s warmth and words. Somehow, she found them just as soothing as
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