Scars (Marked #2.5) Read Online Free PDF

day—made me feel normal for once, even though I was anything but. To me, it was a godsend.
    The man that sat with me for hours on end saw past my ink and piercings. Past the tough-as-balls exterior, and accepted me flaws and all. I was a part of the Cox family before Maya came along and took away my only hope. She ruined me—us. What could’ve been…no, fuck that. We would be together again.
    What I felt that night he took me in his arms couldn’t be faked. Nor duplicated with another.
    It was real.
    Happiness made flesh and bones. In my motherfucking grasp. How did anyone ever expect me to walk away and not fight for my happiness? Im-fucking-possible when his taste after all this time still lingered on my tongue.
    All man with a hint of sweetness that was uniquely Talan Cox.

5

     
     
    The blinking red light across the room pulled me from my thoughts. It was them; my ever-loving family. I knew this without having to hear a single message on that recorder.
    Wonder what they want now? Wasn’t the conversation we had earlier today enough? I mused aloud while walking across the room and toward the blasted machine.
    Fuck it, I was entirely too sober to deal with them. Liquid courage sounded good right about now; the constant pleading and guilt trips were easier to with deal that way.
    Pulling open my freezer, I pulled out my emergency bottle of vodka and grabbed a small shot glass from my cupboard. Once the items were in my hands, I turned back toward my living room. The light continued to blink. Eyeing the machine, I poured a generous shot and threw it back. The burn hurt in the best of ways.
    Poured another shot and pressed play. The first message was not what I was expecting at all.
    “This message is to remind you of your scheduled appointment for tomorrow at one in the afternoon. We ask that you please arrive thirty minutes prior and bring all your prescriptions with you to this appointment. If, for any reason, you are delayed or cannot make this appointment, please call the office as soon as possible. Thank you, and we will see you tomorrow.”
    Who the fuck made that…fucking meddlesome bitch! How dare she? Just because I suffered from severe depression didn’t mean that I needed her to function. What part of “back the hell off” didn’t my mother quite understand? They would be disappointed, because I was not going.
    After pouring another drink, I erased the message and waited for the next one to play. Now this… this was more like it.
    “Janice, sweetheart, please call your mother. We love you and are worried.” Insert eye roll. “Today, Pastor Davis prayed for you in our home…”
    Delete.
    I didn’t need his fake, sanctimonious bullshit. You didn’t become a good person, much less parent of the year just because you had a miracle—a come-to-Jesus moment.
    Next message.
    “Hi, baby, it’s Mom. I know you don’t want to talk, but honey, I need to see you. Make sure with my own eyes that you are okay.” My eyes watered, and a lump rose in my throat. Why now? It was too late to save a person that no longer cared. That could care less if she lived or died. “Sarah’s death hurt us all. We miss her just as much as you do.” That felt like a knife to the gut. Even in the middle of their fraud of an act, it was still all about her. Don’t get me wrong; my sister, my twin, was and is a part of me, the part that died. But for once, I’d like to come first. Not just be the afterthought. “Don’t punish us…I need my little girl back.”
    Thank God that’s over. Pressed delete and poured another. I was going to sleep well tonight.
    “I hate talking to this blasted machine,” my mother began and I downed two shots back to back. This was torture. “You need to change the opening message of your voicemail, Janice. ‘Leave me alone,’ is not appropriate. Hate it.” Then please don’t call. “Jan, your father and I would love to have you over on Tuesday. I know you don’t like to celebrate