Lessons for Skyler (Prologue)

December 22, 2009
By , Pelham, AL
[i]Dear Skyler,
I’m not sure where you are. Maybe you don’t know me. Maybe you do. I’m not sure of anything right now, really. I feel like I should do this, though. If I keep you or give you away, at least I’ll be able to explain what happened to you. You can learn from my mistakes and find your happy ending. Even if I never find mine, I’ll be okay, knowing that you came from all this mess. Just remember, I loved you. I will never stop loving you.[/i]

It was a heavy night. I was done with a lot of things. As I walked into the house, I noticed a bottle on the counter. I took it and smashed it to pieces. Tears fell over the pile of shattered glass. The smell of alcohol filled the air. He ran in, ready to make up another excuse, but froze when he noticed the broken beer bottle and my malevolent glare.

“Trinity,” he said softly.

“I’m going to bed,” I announced. I brushed by him, smelling vodka and cigarettes.

It hurts when you think everything is going to work out. Then, that person you think might not be that bad lets you down. It hurts when your carefully built world crashes beneath you. All you’re left with is the broken pieces and the lesson you learned from the fall.

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