Guess who went back to jail.
Fuck. FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK.
Sorry. I swear when I have no words left and yet if I don't keep writing and talking with my hands I might lose the shredded, worn corner of sanity that I'm still clinging to here.
Jacob just brought me a coffee and it's 8 pm. The kids are in bed asleep at last. Ben played xbox with them for 2 hours straight after dinner. Which he brought because I'm too fucking stunned to move.
Shortly after lunch Jacob decided to go in to his office at the church to make some calls. If it's noisy here he walks over and has relative peace to do his calls there. He was putting on his shoes and the doorbell rang. He figured PJ was early. Cole was standing there. On the front step. Possibly 500 yards closer to me than he's allowed to be by law.
But he didn't see me, I was behind Jake. Jake is tall, all muscles. His shoulders fill a doorway. Cole had no idea I was there. So I stepped sideways right into the living room. Jake went outside and shut the door, having locked the knob from the inside. I could barely hear them. Jake' voice was thin on patience and threaded with a malevolence I haven't heard for a long time. Cole wanted to know if I was there. If I had read his letter, if he could just see me for a few minutes. Alone. His voice sounded scary. I didn't want to hear it. I went upstairs and took the kids in my room and locked the doorknob there too and I called the police.
Because I have had enough of this. Five minutes later and I would have opened that door. And been alone with him.
I'm not sure if he's trying to kill me, scare me or just wear Jake down with his foolishness. Jake says he can outlast whatever Cole brings. I figure Cole will come back next with a gun. Maybe not next month, maybe in 3-4 years, when we're happy and life is trucking along seamlessly again he'll just show up out of the blue and kill us all.
And this feeling is exactly what he wants. A gnawing fear that is never going to go away.
I'm going to have to kill him first. I can't hope for anyone else to do it. I can't picture Jake doing it. He couldn't. He could kick Cole into next week but I'm not sure he could actually take his life.
Me, I could do it now. But the odds of being physically able to before he'd kill me first are so small. Too small for that plan.
And I used to be a good person. When Jake told me Cole had overdosed on pills I instantly hoped he was okay and when I found out he was I was glad. Imagine that.
Denial, fear, shock. It's like picking a fucking bouquet.
