All Over Again

| Chapter Forty |

Ruth Semple hated crying.

She tried not to do it often and gave each session a time limit for her own peace of mind. Her mother hated when she was a sobbing mess, so she was always careful to cry quickly and quietly to herself while she could. She got pretty good at it, actually. It had happened for so long that she could easily be a pro now.

Even when her grandfather died she limited herself to prevent as much crying as possible. She hated the rosy cheeks, the tender eyes that were much too puffy and sore around the lids, and the clogged nose. The memories that bombarded her mind that only increased the pain in her chest until she couldn't breathe. Anything remotely close to crying she tried her best to avoid.

But for the next few days and nights, the flood gates opened. Terry and Jana were desperate in their urge to stop it from happening, but they couldn't. The guilt was too overpowering. All Ruth could think about was how much she fucked everything up earlier. Interfering with that awful man and pushing him to the ground ignited his wrath and Ruth could only imagine how that would be taken out on that poor family.

All those bruises, cuts, and markings on Raffo's body . . . they were all because of him. All because that lowlife father put his hands on Raffo's beautiful brown skin. And to make matters worse, Ruth just left Raffo behind to deal with his abuser right after aggravating him. It was all her fault in the first place and she left him behind to handle the mess she made.

The longer she went without a text message or phone call from Raffo, the thicker her remorse grew. She had half a mind to drive back down to the house and check on their family to make sure they were alright after the shit she pulled, but the last thing she wanted to do was make their situation worse. So Ruth decided to wait it out until she got word.

And fuck was it killing her.

Curling into a moon-shaped fetal position, Ruth allowed her tears to drip off the side of her nose and into the silk of her pillow. Her stomach was clenched, her chest tight, and she couldn't seem to concentrate on anything other than her cell phone. If only she could go back in time and stop herself from going up their driveway . . . from disrespecting that lowlife of an asshole and making everything so much worse.

Raffo was right. It was all her fault for causing that mess for them when she had no business going up there in the first place. And he was the one who would have to deal with her consequences.

Ruth bit her quivering lip and squeezed her eyes shut tightly.

What have I done?

*****

Sunday night came quick and indifferent from the last few nights.

Ruth was lazily brushing a comb through her wet curls, her movements hesitant and slow as she sniffled back any tears that stung at her raw nose. Terry and Jana had gone for the night and tried to get her to go with them, but she didn't want to be around anyone. Not when she couldn't think straight.

Her stomach was constantly churning and she'd hoped a nice long shower could correct that. But all it did was increase her tears and push her back deeper into her thoughts. Even while she practiced her usual hair routine in her cotton shorts and long-sleeved llama themed shirt, she wanted to sob.

Why did she have to be such a screw up?

A sharp knock rounded at the front door in her living room, startling her out of her thoughts. She paused mid-stroke, her hand stilling in her curls. Unsure of if it was in her head or not, she stayed silent again to listen, and after another minute, the knock came again.

Furrowing her eyebrows, she got up from her bed and crossed her room to get to the hallway. She made her way to the door as quickly as her legs could get her, unsure of who it was but also knowing it wasn't her cousins who had a key to the apartment and could easily get in. So when she stood on her toes to peer out the peephole, she nearly toppled to the side, losing her balance in shock.

Her fingers thought before she could.

They twisted the knob open.

*****