I'm read to kill myself if I don't get this thing written. My life has changed in past several years since I've written this story. I work two jobs, I have activities I have to finish outside of these working hours. At this point, posting something, even if its as short as what you see below, is the only way I can manage to inspire myself - than That's what I will have to do. The good news is that means I will be able to post several times a week.
The forty-five-minute trip to the Denver medical practice was like driving down a gray road eternity – no matter how many minutes passed, how hard he pushed the pedal – daring just this once to challenge the speed limit – the answer he so desperately needed, could not come fast enough.
The delicate macrocosm Mark had spun from multiple webs of lies was being threatened, threatened by the result of his own imbecilic decision.
He didn't want to admit it. Did not want to confront the truth that a choice which he had thought would be the very thing to protect him, was now threatening to expose him.
Had it never been for her.
He saw it again, that horrific act of abuse he had interrupted. Michael Hashrim standing behind her, Beth exposed, the side of her faced pressed into the mattress with one hand, while his other steadied himself….
Had he been a moment too late….
He forced himself to blink. He could not think about that now. The unbearable rage the image title waved upon him threatened to burn what was left of his sanity to the concrete ground.
A pain in his hands led him to look down, where his hands were gripping the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were white, and his skin burnt as if it were going to blister.