Calling Mom
SEB
It’s been three days in hell. I was broken, jaded, and defeated when I left her apartment. She didn’t want me anymore, she didn’t love me, and she’s filing a fucking divorce.
We’ve been only married for less than a fucking month, and this is driving me shit. Jesus, I want to die, and I want to fucking kill whoever is stalking her, and I swear I make him pay.
Just thinking that I’m going to lose her very soon. No, I’m not going there. No. Not happening. I’d rather die, and I want Abby back. I want my Abby back.
“Did you hear anything from her?” Pat asks, and he’s sitting beside me in my minibar.
“Nope. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Not a single fucking word, single blank message, a single call, or single voicemail.” I drink another shot of whiskey—this has been my water for the past three years.
“Any news about the message?” He drinks his shot too.