He walked into the bathroom and washed his face. “I can’t believe he did that,” he whispered. He leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor. As his eyes welled up with tears, he balled his fist and ran it into the wall, where blood rippled out of his knuckles and onto his jeans. He ran his fingers through his hair and rose off the floor, staring at himself in the mirror. His eyes were out of tears and his face was red and swollen. As anger rose within him, he wanted to rip the entire house apart by hand, but more than anything, he wanted to stop the pain. Feeling worthless, he opened the medicine cabinet and searched through drawers to find a blade. But there was nothing sharp enough to slit his wrists. He stormed out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. He remembered putting a pocketknife in his top drawer in case Abraham ever tried to hurt him while he slept. He opened the drawer with nothing on his mind except death, when his beautiful Alexandria popped into his head.
He grabbed his wallet and pulled out the picture they took together. Her face was filled with so much promise and love. He tearfully stared at her as he lay down on his bed, wishing they were together. He loved her so much and missed everything about her. “I should have never left you. I don’t deserve you,” he said to the photo. He thought about how she’d welcomed him with open arms and never asked for anything in return, except his love. He knew before he left that she was his heart and his home, not that godforsaken place. He wondered if she hated him for leaving and was ready to move on with another guy. My instincts told me to stay in San Antonio, but I ignored them just to get back to that sick piece of sh—
“Cash! Hurry up, we should get going!” Leona yelled from down the hall.
“Okay, I’m coming!” he shouted back. He put the picture back in his wallet and grabbed his bag. As he was heading out of his room, he noticed an envelope on his dresser. It was addressed to him in what looked like Abraham’s handwriting. He shoved it in his bag and walked out of the house, wondering what that sick bastard wrote.