The Wrong One by TNae Wilcox (self help books to read .TXT) 📕

until we broke the ice.

Jake came storming down the stairs to leave out for school, just like he had all week, but this time I stopped him at the door. “You can’t be mad at me forever.” I looked into those big, brown eyes for a few seconds, then I hugged him as tight as I could, he hugged me back. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I let go, and he left.

I thought about Jake all day. I couldn’t stand for him to be mad at me. Maybe dating is too soon. It’s too soon for the both of us. I can wait, I’ll wait until Jake goes away to college. Then, he’ll want me to have someone to be here with me, and by then maybe I will feel more comfortable kissing another man.

I picked up the phone and called Robert. Breaking the news to him was easier than I thought it would be, he sounded like he was fine with it.

That night, I smelled smoke in my sleep. I woke up to a fire blazing downstairs. I hurried to Jake’s room and tried to wake him up. “Jake,” I yelled, but he wouldn’t budge. I put my ear to his chest and listened for a heart beat. When I heard it, I let go of the breath I was holding in. I heard sirens a distance away from the house. I can’t wait for them.

I lifted all one hundred-fifty of Jake’s pounds up into my arms with strength that I didn’t know I had and went over to his window. I slid him out on to the roof and climbed out the window. Just as I did, the fire truck pulled up. I looked back into the house and saw a thick cloud of smoke crawling up under Jake’s room door; the fire spreaded to the upstairs.


Jake was drugged, and later I found out all the smoke detectors in the house were removed. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who’d done all of this. Jake and I packed up and moved to another state. Now bad luck had found me again.


The shooter had his arm around my neck and the gun to my head. He opened the door and there were dozens of armed police facing us. “Stay calm, let the hostage go. Don’t make the situation worse than it already is,” an officer yelled to him.

The shooter rubbed his face in my hair, smelling it. “Isn’t this romantic,” he said without the accent. Robert. “Robert? Why are you doing this to me?”

“You were supposed to be mine. Jake wasn’t supposed to make it out of that house alive!”

“Please, just let me go.” I was crying hysterically.

“Shut up! All you care about is yourself! I bought you a ring, and you humiliated me!”

I clinched tight to his arm around my neck and closed my eyes and prayed. God, please spare my life, again. Even though I prayed those words, I still waited to die. My ears plugged again. There was yelling back and forth between Robert and the police, but it sounded like it was far away. Then, a single gun shot. I fell to my knees, eyes still shut. Everything felt like it was in slow motion. I thought Robert had shot me. I opened my eyes to see him lying beside me, blood streaming from his forehead.

Imprint

Publication Date: 05-06-2011

All Rights Reserved