Fragile
Simplicity Blog Excerpts
Pulling
out a handful of mail, she stood next to the mailbox as she shuffled through
the stack. As her eyes fell on the last envelope, her hand flew to her mouth,
almost as if she was containing a scream that had been buried for years. Her
body refused to move as her mouth hung open in shock, her mind telling her that
what she was seeing couldn’t be real. She stood there staring at the letter,
her mind in its own world as everything around her seemed to stand still. Every
noise outside seemed to stop and the only sound she heard was the rapid beating
of her heart.
Kyleigh gripped the white
envelope with enough force that the edges began to crinkle and bend, her shaky
hands making the letters bounce almost to the point that the name was
unreadable, but even with blurry vision from fresh tears careening down her
cheeks, there was no denying whose name was sprawled in a sloppy attempt at
cursive handwriting. It was a name she could never forget.
How did he find me? The questioned pulsed over and over through
her frazzled mind.
She absently reached out and placed her hand against the side of the
mailbox for support as all the hurt and fear from so many years ago came
crashing back into her. Her body began to tremble as buried emotions and deeply
embedded memories lit up her mind like the continuous flash of a camera.
They were too much to handle.
“Oh, God,” she finally choked out as
sobs began to take over. She bent forward and placed her hands on her knees as
all the emotion fell from her in the form of hot tears. Seconds turned to
minutes and time seemed to drag on forever as the past tore through her fragile
core. Pain, fear, and anger. All these emotions flooded her body without
remorse.
Excerpt
2:
Sliding
the black helmet down on her head, she looked at David already sitting on the
bike, and watched as he readjusted the mirrors. The vibrations of the black
Harley reverberated against the garage, and she felt excitement build up inside
her. Adrenaline was ricocheting throughout her body, causing her hands to
tremble from the rush, and making her fingers fumble with the straps of her
helmet.
“Come here, let me help,” David said,
over the roar of the engine.
Leaning her head within his reach, she
smiled at him as he fastened her helmet, the gesture making her feel like a
little kid.
“All right, you’re secured and ready,”
he said, giving her helmet a smack and motioning for her to hop on back.
She gripped his shoulder as she threw
her leg over and then wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. Pressing her
chest firmly against his back, she asked, “How’s this?”
Cocking his head to the left, he gave
her a sideways look, showing a dimple filled cheek as his grin widened.
“Perfect.”
Revving the engine, David slowly took
off down the driveway as she tightened her grip. After a bumpy ride down the
gravel drive, he turned right out of his place, taking them farther into the
country. As they picked up speed, the vibration of the bike between her legs
intensified, and she closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the wind whipping
against her face. The feeling of flying down the open road was indescribable
and she had the urge to let go of David and hold both her arms out. Her shirt
ruffled up from the breeze and strands of her dark hair flew out from under the
helmet. She inhaled a deep breath, already feeling as though the fresh air was
cleansing her soul. This was exactly what she needed.
“Oh, my God, David, this is
unbelievable. I can’t believe you never took me out on this!” she yelled,
smacking the back of his shoulder.
“Hey!” he yelled, laughing. “Sorry,
you just never mentioned going, so I guess I never thought you’d be
interested.”
Resting her chin on his shoulder, she
said, “With the vibration between my legs and the feel of all my stress flying
away with the wind, it’s almost as wonderful as sex.”
“What? No way am I letting my bike
outperform me. I’ll give you the ride of your life later tonight,” he said,
casting a look over his shoulder at her as his hand reached around and squeezed
her thigh.
“Hmm, I’ll be sure to take you up on
that,” she said, pressing her lips against his neck.
Excerpt
3:
Bringing her gaze up to his, the smile she wore took away all the pain
from a few moments ago. “I love you, David.”
Clasping her cheeks in each hand, he gave her one last look as he
pressed his lips against hers. His kiss was slow, his tongue moving against
hers in a rhythm that mimicked a slow dance, where the music that played was
the sound of their racing hearts and rapid breathing.
With one hand gripping the small of her back, the other tangled in her
brown waves, he began taking small steps forward, directing her backwards to
the couch. Once the back of her legs hit the cushions, they found themselves
falling onto the black leather. He leaned back on his legs, staring down at the
heavy rise and fall of her chest, and finding it hard to take his eyes off the
fullness of her lips. He touched the outline of her cleavage that was peeking
out of her shirt, and as he slid his finger along the crease, he watched her
eyes momentarily close. Pulling his bottom lip into his mouth, he thrust her
shirt down with both hands, giving him the access he craved. The whimper that
escaped her mouth teased him even more, and she arched her back, begging him to
take her. A low growl rumbled deep in his throat as he bent down and pulled her
breast into his mouth.
The urgency in her touch as she gripped the back of his head pushed
him along, and before he knew what he was doing, he was yanking the rest of her
clothes off, along with his own.
As their bodies folded together, their desire ignited even more, and
before long they were in a seamless rhythm as each breath, each kiss, and each
gasp conveyed the feelings that they couldn’t find the right words for. They
spoke with their bodies and it was a feeling David had feared he’d never
experience again.
Excerpt
4:
She squirmed and writhed underneath his weight, doing everything she
could to get free. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She was so close to
escaping.
“Get off of me!” she screamed as she dug her nails into the hardwood
floor and tried pulling herself forward. Faint scratches developing on the
hardwood floor were remnants of her despair and the drops of tears landing next
to them showed the extent of her fear. She felt his grip on her thighs
loosening and she began throwing punches blindly at his face as she continued
to try and get herself free. Her ribs screamed with every movement but she bit
down on the pain and continued on. There was no time to stop and breathe.
Squirming, she finally wriggled a few more inches out of his grasp.
With his hands now hooked around her ankles, she threw one more hit to the top
of his head. Her hand burned from the contact and she yelped from the pain but
she continued to keep wailing her fist into his head and face. When he let one
hand go to shield himself from more of her punches, she yanked her free foot
away and aimed for his face. She felt her foot make contact with something and
she hoped it was his nose. Kicking one leg, she began crawling forward, her
arms burning and his hands trying to snag her legs. But with each kick, she
managed to put a little more distance between them.
As another kick hit him square on the jaw, and she felt the absence of
his hands on her body, she scrambled to make a run for it. She was slow to get
back on her feet, and a few steps down the hall she felt her body ignite with
even more pain as he slammed her into the wall.
Her face connected with the dingy white wall and a muffled cry was
shoved out of her mouth as his body held her against the wall. She was trapped
again. The dampness trailing down her cheeks angered her and she wished her
hands were free so she could wipe them away before Brad saw them. She didn’t
want him to see her upset. The only thing she wanted him to see was her
determination to stay alive. And the hate she felt for him.
Excerpt
5:
He blew
out a ragged breath, wondering how much she’d had to drink tonight, and how
much longer he could hear his mother ask for his dead brother before he pulled
out a bottle himself. It seemed they were all just a bunch of drunks. None of
them could get by in life without the help of alcohol, including him. The need
for alcohol ran through his blood as much as blood itself.
“Mom, you need to understand that Randy is not here any longer.” He
paused for a moment, dreading the next thing he had to say. He’d said it enough
in the past six months to her that he knew exactly what her reaction was going
to be. “Randy’s dead, Mom. Remember?”
“You are a liar, David! How dare you say that about him. He’s staying
at your place, remember. He’s been living with you now for a year. Is he out
somewhere? He’s probably out with a girl, isn’t he?” his mom said with a little
laugh that sounded maniacal, making him shiver.
“No, Mom. Randy’s been dead for six months now. Where’s Roger?”
More crying sounded through the phone and David grabbed a fistful of
his hair in irritation. Going through this with his mom was almost as bad as going
through Randy’s death all over again. It was as if he was re-living it every
time he had this conversation with her.
The need to drink the guilt away hit
him hard. Hearing his mother ask for her son through a mess of confused tears
tore him apart. He knew it had to be his payback for letting Randy drive away
that night. God was punishing him for doing nothing. He was making him re-live
it every week, through his mother. He sucked in a sharp breath, knowing he
deserved all of this, but also knowing he couldn’t handle it. He needed
something to dull this ache, to make him not care anymore; with each sob coming
from the line the need grew even stronger.
The crying was getting so loud now that it began to hurt his head. He
couldn’t console her, she didn’t want it, wouldn’t listen. She just wanted to
torture him with his guilt; hang it above his head until he caved and opened
the bottle. He had the bottle in his hand before he even knew what he was
doing. He looked at the bottle. So many conflicting emotions coursed through
him that he didn’t know which way was up and which way was down. He just wanted
it to stop.
One way or the other.
He opened the bottle and brought it to
his mouth just as his mom cried out Randy’s name in a sob that sounded broken
and ragged—just like him.
With the alcohol beginning to burn his
guilt away, he said, “Mom, I’m sorry for everything,” and hung the phone up.
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