The air felt socked from my lungs as I stared at him. I couldn’t quite understand what I was hearing, because it made no sense at all. “No.” I shook my head, confused. When Pick opened his mouth to say more, I banged him once more against the wall. “Why would she do that? Why?”
She had to have gone to college. It’d been her life goal. Her dream to be a child psychologist. I’d spent the last six years surviving hell and convincing myself it’d been worth it because at least she’d been able to follow her dream. That was the only thing I’d ever wanted. I couldn’t bear to hear otherwise. I couldn’t handle learning she’d suffered through one miserable day.
Except, shit. If she hadn’t gone to college as she’d planned, then she hadn’t become a child psychologist, and she hadn’t done anything she’d really wanted to do. She was stuck working as a fucking waitress, while some douchebag had cheated on her?
I felt sick to my stomach hearing how she’d moved on to someone else, but Jesus, learning she wasn’t even pampered and cherished and spoiled rotten by the fucker twisted the knife deeper.
“Why do you think she left them?” Pick asked, reminding me I still held his shirt in my hands and had his back once again rammed against the wall. When he lifted an eyebrow as if I should already know why she’d abandoned her family, I growled.
“Because of me?”
When he didn’t answer, I spun away from him and ran my hands over my head, letting the stubble on my scalp scrape against my palms. My stomach heaved, and I worried I really might be sick. So I bent at the knees and rested my hands on them.
But the rage and overwhelming helplessness from what I’d just learned consumed me. With a roar, I straightened and kicked the first thing in my path—which happened to be Pick’s desk—with the flat of my foot. It flew over onto its side and crashed to the floor, sending papers and his computer flying.
When the glass in the screen broke, shattering across the floor, I stared in amazement, unable to believe what I’d done... until the urge to do more flooded me.
“God...damn it!” I roared at the top of my lungs.
She was supposed to be taken care of, protected, spoiled, happy.
Not this.
The fury and need to destroy took over. I spun toward the wall and reared back my arm, slamming my fist into sheetrock. Absorbing the pain in my knuckles as they split open and bled over the backs of my fingers, I hit the wall again, relishing it.
“What the hell?!” As the office door burst open, I whirled toward Noel and all the others spilling in behind him, my thirst to punch more peaking.