I Am Too Tired To Love You

I had already rented a cheap apartment earlier that week. With only a few belongings, settling in was quick.

Lying on the musty single bed, finally alone, my phone lit up—it was my father, Arthur.

I hesitated, then answered.

His roar exploded from the receiver. "Claire Hollis, have you lost your mind?! I saw the news! You dared to ask Nolan for a divorce? Get your ass back here! Now!"

I didn't want to go back. While my mother was still on her sickbed, my father had hooked up with our neighbor, Brenda. That home? It was theirs now. I had no home.

But my mother's urn was still there. If I was going to leave, I couldn't leave her behind.

The moment I stepped into the familiar apartment, before I even took off my coat, my father slapped me hard across the face.

He had been hiding the news of my mother's death, conspiring with an inside man at the hospital to keep squeezing Nolan for "treatment fees" that were never administered. Now that I'd filed for divorce, that cash cow was gone.

The heavy, alcohol-fueled slap sent my head ringing, and I crumpled to the floor.

Brenda rushed over, feigning concern, but his yell stopped her short. "Don't help her! She finally gets what she wants with this divorce, and now she dares to cut off my income? How am I supposed to pay my gambling debts? She's trying to kill me, that ungrateful bitch!"

Brenda tried to play mediator. "Claire, don't be so impulsive. Nolan is the CEO of a publicly traded company. So many girls would kill to be in your position. I know he plays around, but what rich man doesn't these days? The money is real, and so are the privileges of being Mrs. Underwood."

I pushed myself up from the floor, wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth. "My mind is made up. Don't try to change it. I just came back for my things. I'll be gone as soon as I have them. When you two get married, don't bother telling me."

I turned and walked toward my old room.

My father spat behind me. "Ungrateful wretch. What the hell do you think you can take? Or did you come crawling back for your mother?"

My heart plummeted. The urn I had designed myself, which I kept on my bedside table, was gone.

I spun around. He was holding it, dangling it with a vicious grin.

My blood ran cold. I lunged at him. "Give her back to me! That's my mother! You have no right!"

Crash.

The ashes scattered across the floor like smoke.

My father roared, "I have no right? I was her husband! How dare you speak to me like that?!"

Something inside me snapped. I shoved him away, screaming. "She was your wife... She spent her whole life paying off your debts! Do you have any humanity left?!"

That sent him into a rage. He grabbed a whiskey bottle and smashed it over my forehead. Another sharp, cracking sound. Blood streamed down my face, mixing with tears and soaking my shirt.

Brenda screamed, "Arthur, stop! You'll kill her!"

I blinked through my blurry vision, looking up at him. He just stared at me—no remorse. As if he was enjoying it. Then he took out his phone, snapped a picture of my blood-streaked face, and made a call.

His voice turned sickeningly insincere. "Nolan, Claire's throwing another tantrum, came over here to cause a scene. Don't worry, I taught her a lesson for you. Take a look at the photo."

"Come on, you two have been married for ten years, you were college sweethearts. Don't just throw it all away. Besides, back then, it was all me. I was the one who forced her to dump you."

"When you had the car accident, it was Claire who—"

On the other end, Nolan cut him off coldly. "My surviving that crash had nothing to do with her. What did she do? Besides calculate how much of my fortune she could get while I was in a coma?"

Arthur faltered, his eyes darting around. "Right, right... but she did—"

Nolan sighed, clearly losing his patience. "How much do you want this time?"

Arthur's eyes lit up. "Yes, yes, medical bills, and a little something for the emotional distress..."

A woman's voice cut in. "Nolan, Claire isn't perfect, but let's not drag her mother into this. The old woman still needs her treatment, after all."

"You're always so kind," Nolan's voice softened for a moment, then the frost returned to his tone. "Mr. Hollis, if you want my money, then have Claire come crawling back here to beg me for it herself."

Click.

Arthur cursed. "Damn it! Even after I beat you like this, he still doesn't care. All that groveling for nothing!"

He turned, pointing a vicious finger at me. "I don't care how you get the money. I'm drowning in gambling debts. I need a stake to get back on my feet. If you can't handle Nolan, I'll kill you!"

I felt nothing. I just knelt down, gathering the ashes in my hands and gently placing them back into the shattered urn.

Then I took off my blood-stained coat, wrapped it around the broken fragments of the urn, and clutched the bundle tight as I stumbled out the door.

The sounds of Arthur and Brenda's shouting faded behind me, but I couldn't hear them anymore.