Through the Fire (Daughter of Fire, #1)(29)
“It would have been kinder if you’d just killed me.”
He roared loudly and smashed his fist into the wall as the words I’d issued with every intention of inflicting pain hit their mark. I yelped with fear and shrunk away from his outburst.
Resting his fist against the dent he’d left in the drywall, he took a few deep breaths until he gained control over himself again. “I’ve left all of my cash and there are some clothes for you in that bag.” Without looking back at me, he nodded his head in the direction of a brand-new bag resting against the wall. “The room is paid for until Wednesday morning,” he murmured as he reached for the door handle.
“And then I’m on my own.” Completely alone.
He held his hand on the doorframe and, for a moment, it seemed like he was going to change his mind and stay, but then he nodded. “One day, it might be safe for us. When that day comes, I’ll find you.”
“Don’t bother,” I said as I curled into a ball on the bed. “One day” was a lie we told ourselves to make up for our inaction. I understood that now. I’d never know whether or not he heard me though because the moment the words left my mouth, the door slammed shut. The loud bang was the sound that finally broke through the dam restraining my tears.
I rushed from the bed and ran to the door, kicking it in frustration as the tears streamed from my eyes. Clenching my fingers into a tight fist, I copied Clay’s earlier action, smashing my fist into the same spot he’d hit. Over and over, I punched the one reminder of Clay left in the room. My fingers grew numb, and then the familiar burn flickered across my skin.
“Damn you!” I screamed.
I continued my assault on the room until there was a knock on the door.
With tear-soaked eyes, I ripped it open, expecting to see an apologetic Clay on the other side.
Instead, it was the manager on duty warning me that if the noise didn’t cease I would be ejected from the premises. Once she’d left, I slammed the door shut and leaned against it. Seconds later, I slid to the ground, consumed by the sorrow of losing both of the men in my life in such a short time.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE MOTEL manager had to threaten to call the cops before I finally left the room on Wednesday afternoon, hours after the check-out time. After taking just one change of clothes—a T-shirt, hoodie, and a pair of jeans—I left the backpack Clay had bought for me behind. I assumed he’d left it for me as penance. That it was supposed to somehow be his repentance. He didn’t deserve that. He hadn’t earned it. His actions, the way he’d forced his way into my life and heart just to leave me alone in my desperation, made me hate him as much as I’d once loved him.
How could he leave when I needed him the most?
The one consolation I had was that he hadn’t taken advantage of my desires before leaving. I could only imagine how much more I would hate us both if that had happened.
The only other thing I took from the hotel room was the cash that Clay had left. I hadn’t wanted to, but I didn’t have the survival instinct Dad had possessed. Only fragments of information had stuck with me, and the thought of doing some of the things he’d done in order to survive, made my stomach twist. I wasn’t cut out for a life of crime; it was part of the reason I had rallied so hard to get the part-time job that I’d had. The job that had allowed Clay to find me.
The simple fact was I’d thought I would have Dad for years to come. I could only hope the pieces of knowledge I had gained would be enough to keep me alive.
Even though I shouldn’t have, I returned to the place that Dad and I had called home for a few short weeks.
It was nothing like I’d expected it to be.
I’d envisioned the twisted, blackened mess I’d seen just a few nights before, but it wasn’t. The cleanup was already in full effect—it was almost as if the house had never existed in the first place. I wondered whether the Rain were instrumental in getting things resolved quicker than they usually would be.
Despite the fact that the charred remains were gone, I gagged as if smoke still filled the air. It didn’t hold any solace or peace for me, just the bitter memory of Clay’s promises and betrayals.
Finding no peace, I turned away and headed to the only other place in Charlotte that I needed to see before I left town for good. It would be just as unsettling for me, but I couldn’t force myself to leave Charlotte without going there first.
An hour and a half later, I stood in front of the warehouse where Clay and I had spent seven days living someone else’s life—one where we could be happy and have each other. I couldn’t bring myself to go any closer than the broken fence. When I turned to leave, knowing that I could find no comfort inside the crumbling walls. A single magnolia lay on the ground with a ribbon tied around it.
Certain that the flower was intended for me, even though the thought broke my heart all over again, I bent to pick it up. A tiny scrap of paper was hidden beneath the ribbon listing a cemetery name and a plot number. My knees buckled as it dawned on me that Clay had arranged for my father to have a proper burial. It was impossible for him to have organized it all so quickly though, not unless the Rain helped him somehow. I desperately wanted to go visit the site and see whether my suspicions were correct. I couldn’t risk it if there was Rain involvement though.
It was bound to be a trap. Even if Clay had organized it all, and had intended to give this to me as a parting gift, there was no way his family, or someone else in the Rain, wouldn’t have corrupted it. Even if Dad hadn’t told me enough about their underhanded tactics, I’d seen it with Louise. Hadn’t Clay said she’d promised him two days? If it was impossible for Clay to trust his own family, how could I trust that Dad’s funeral plot was untainted?