Page 225 of Fighting the Forbidden

I lift it again and bring it down hard. Crack! It slams into the side mirror with a jarring but satisfying metallic clang. The mirror flies into the back wall, leaving a shiny trail of mirrored glass like tears on the concrete floor.

Home run.

Griff kissing that woman.

I smash the passenger side mirror.

Her moans.

The bat punches into the headlights with a satisfying crunch and crackle.

Their bodies twisting under the covers. Her nails digging into his skin.

The bat connects with the A-pillar holding the windshield in place instead of the windshield I was aiming for. The impact jars my bones and rattles my teeth.

My arms shake and throb.

Breathing hard, I turn, stumble out of the garage, and stand in front of the Chevelle. Griff’s pride and joy. My arms wobble like spaghetti as I lift the bat.

I sat in the garage and watched him restore it from scraps. He’s let me race it at Zips. I had my first orgasm in that front seat.

I lift the bat higher, aiming for the headlights.

No.

I can’t seem to force my arms to move.

He’s had this car for years. Long before we were a couple.

It’s not mine to destroy.

I lower the bat and turn to stare at the mess I’ve left behind. My car was going to be so beautiful. Now it’s shattered. In pieces.

Just like my heart.

Tears stream down my cheeks but I ignore them as I toss the bat into the trunk of the Chevelle. I pull the car into the bay next to the ruined Malibu, leave the keys inside, and slam the door shut.

Now what?

It doesn’t matter.

The sun’s coming up.

Exhausted and throbbing with pain, I stumble onto the main road and start walking toward the sunrise.

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