Cuts Like An Angel Read Online Free Page A

always having, you might have more than your reflection to talk to.”
    Looking around the parking lot, she spied several people coming and going. Grabbing her purse, she pulled out her little personal calendar. She wasn’t about to try and start her car with an audience and finish off her already shredded ego.
    She dug out her jumbo pen and clicked the top, opening the calendar to the spot needing another X. She marked it perfectly and counted how many days left before being promoted to a paid position. She already knew how many, but she had to count anyway. It did something for her—she wasn’t sure what, and had quit trying to figure it out.
    The tiny pages popped out from under her thumb, and she stared at the other X’s.
    The caller that never called back.
    Don’t do it, Rosie. Just don’t. Even as she said it, she did it. She turned the pages to the first day when she’d started marking the calendar for him. Don’t count. Don’t you count it.
    But she did. She knew the numbers on that, too. As she counted, she felt it. The negative vibes of doom eating up the X’s she’d put on her good girl goal’s side.
    Wow. She shook her head, amazed. Thirty days. When would she leave it? Accept he wasn’t going to ever call ever again?
    She let her eyes close while shaking her head a little. Stupid dance in her stupid mind. She was sick and tired of hearing the fear of what could have happened, might have happened, likely had happened to him.
    You know, he could have very easily gotten his second wind, Rosie. Your words could have helped him. He could be in a new life, starting over. That is just as plausible and possible as the other wretched scenarios you conjure up.
    The attempt at positive thoughts only served up a burning pile of dread in the pit of her stomach. She stared at the taunting X’s. There were only twenty because she’d gotten pissed, and quit marking. She filled the empty squares to get it current, digging her pen into the squares. The ink skipped and she scribbled roughly on the side of the paper. Piece of shit. The ink returned, only to run out again on the next one.   She pounded the pen tip onto the book, making holes. This time she pressed hard enough to rip the X’s onto the squares, one after another until she’d completed all thirty, then threw the pen on the floor.
    “See, I don’t give up,” she said to the calendar. “You know what? I don’t think you need to be in my life at all, messing up my schedule with your stupid no calling bull crap.” She ripped the pages out, then ripped them into pieces and threw them as hard as she could onto the floor. She ripped all the pages out now and slammed them to the floor, too. “You don’t own me,” she yelled, pointing at the mess. “You don’t make me or break me, I do.” She poked her chest a bunch. “You want to give up? Fine, you give up.  Just give up. It’s not my fault you’re not going to fight, Mister. That’s on you.”
    She swiped away the stupid tears and glanced around, holding back the mountain of sobs. Don’t even, Rosie. Don’t let go of your determination. Don’t let anybody decide shit for you. You’re in control here. No one else.
    She eyed all the shredded paper on the floor and seat now. That was her life coming apart, ripping into shreds. She had nobody but herself to keep her on track. And getting off track was not a Goddamn option .
    Wiping her runny nose on her shoulder, she quickly picked up the pieces of paper and began putting them in her purse. “Sorry, buddy,” she quipped at the ghost that had haunted her every waking night since he’d promised to call. “You said you would; you promised,” she whispered, shoving the last of the papers in. “Piece of shit,” she said to the paper. “You’re the piece of shit for lying. Lying piece of shit. And I’m taping all this back together later, because I’m holding your ass to your word. And I will mark the calendar. I will mark until you do