TITLE: For the Love of a Child
GENRE: Adult Suspense
My fingers tapped against the neck of the whiskey bottle that had saved my life. I wanted to pull it out and toss down a little more liquid courage, but I knew I’d only be putting off the inevitable. The door in front of me wasn’t going anywhere.
If I knocked, I honestly believed he’d kill me. Not figuratively. Not the cute ‘he’s going to kill me’ I hear other women use when they go shopping. He would literally end my life.
A cartoon image of a tombstone floated in front of my eyes.
Betty Miller. Died September 20th, 1998. Knocked on the wrong door.
My fingers traced the swirls in the wood grain. Much like the grey siding of the apartment complex around it, this particular rust-colored piece of wood didn’t appear to be anything special. But if I went through with this, knocked on this specific door, my life would change forever.
I stood there for a minute or two, staring at the door while my body swayed back and forth as if the wooden deck belonged to a ship in a storm. The bottle had somehow found its way back into my hand. I brought it to my lips, and part of me welcomed the warmth and euphoria the amber liquid ushered in on its way down my throat. The other part of me wanted to throw up.