The Road To Price by Justine Elvira
The Road To Price
Justine Elvira
Published by Justine Elvira
©2013 Justine Elvira
The Road To Price
Author: Justine Elvira
Edited by: Eileen Proksch
Cover Design: Robin Harper of Wicked by Design
Published by Justine Elvira
© 2013 Justine Elvira
Original publication: March 2013
©2014 Justine Elvira
Revised Edition: May 2014
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All rights reserved. This book contains material under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any Unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.
Cover image used under license from shutterstock.com
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
The Road To Forgiveness (Price #2)
Acknowledgements
About The Author
Prologue
I see the sign and off ramp for my destination. I'm hoping the change of scenery will do me good. I can’t go back home, so Miami will be my new home. This is supposed to be one of the most spectacular cities in America, yet I know it doesn’t matter. I have a long road ahead of me, no matter where I go.
Everything reminds me of him. I hope moving to a new place will help in my grieving process. Help me to move on with my life. It’s wishful thinking because I know I can’t move on. My heart died that day along with him.
I have cut all contact with my family and friends. I know this deeply hurts my mother, but I couldn’t breath. I couldn’t breathe being in that town, the place that holds my bad memories.
I hope one day I can go back. I pray that one day I'm strong enough to move past the painful events in my life. I hope that one day I wake up with the urge to live. I know that's what he would want.
Chapter One
4 months later…
The heat and humidity in Miami is still something I’m having trouble getting used to. I just finished cleaning the offices of a large printing company that must have decided air conditioning is optional. It's one hundred degrees outside. Four hours cleaning in this heat makes me want to pass out.
Luckily, I have on thin fabric yoga pants and a tank top with a built-in sports bra. Normally, I wear a t-shirt and jeans to clean, but the temp agency warned me that the offices can get warm. My guess is they knew about the AC, but conveniently withheld this information.
On the walk to my car I witness all the tourist activity around me. It's late August so everyone seems to be getting in some last minute fun in the sun. I swear Miami has its own idea of fashion. It’s like the Jersey boardwalk, but the consumers in Miami pay a heck of a lot more to look trashy.
I hop into my 98’ Toyota Corolla and turn on the air conditioning. I’m not a dramatic person, but I swear if my body temperature doesn’t cool down I might burst into flames. It's hot in Georgia, but nothing is like the heat down in Miami.
Today is one of the rare days that I don’t have to work my evening shift at the local diner. The temp agency I hooked up with four months ago keeps me busy with work. I met a young woman named Jessica in the office and she's been keeping me busy with work ever since.
Jessica constantly tells me I'm overqualified for the jobs that I want to work. Thankfully, she understands that I just want work that will keep me physically busy, so I can shut my mind off. Oh, and she doesn’t ask me a lot of questions. This earns her brownie points in my book.
Once I have the AC going in my car, I reverse out of my parking space and head home to my studio apartment. The rent in Miami is not cheap. This is not something I had thought of before I decided to relocate. I come from a small town in Georgia where the rent is cheap and the people are friendly. Miami is an adjustment.
Most people my age can’t wait for a night off so they can go out and party. Sometimes it's really easy for me to forget that I’m twenty-three years old. The life I've led has made me feel much older. Instead of going out on my nights off, I usually get my grocery shopping and errands done. My kitchen is looking scarce so I need to go grocery shopping soon. My body is extremely tired so I veto the idea of shopping for the night. The muggy heat will do that to you.
I pull into my apartment complex and head up to my apartment on the second floor. I decide to take the stairs because the elevator has taken on a distinct smell the past month. I would've called the landlord about this, but I don’t want to force a conversation with him. I don’t want to have a conversation with anyone. I just want to be left alone.
Walking into my apartment I lock the door behind me. My apartment isn’t exactly in the best part of Miami so I have a lock, deadbolt, and two chains. It gives me the illusion that I am safe.
I don’t really have any furnishings or décor around my place. My apartment consists of a bed, a dresser, and a bookshelf. No TV, no computer, no table, and no chairs. I have no expectations to entertain anyone and I avoid technology as much as I can.
I go right into the bathroom and strip off my clothing. I want to take a nice, cold shower to cool myself off and wash the dried sweat off my body. I step under the shower head and let the water hit my back. It feels amazing. My body instantly starts cooling down. I almost forget that outside these walls it's as hot as a furnace.
I take my time washing my hair and body, wanting to enjoy the feeling of being clean. When my skin starts to prune, I turn off the water and hop out. I wrap a towel around my head and start to dry off my body. My muscles ache. I'm tempted to pass out on the floor underneath me from exhaustion. Common sense comes back to me and I leave the bathroom.
I go to my dresser and pull out one of my large t-shirts. I slip it on and get into bed. My hair is still in the towel, but I don’t have the energy to pull the towel off and comb through my hair. I know I will regret this later, but I don’t care. I just need a few hours to rest my body.
Luckily, I enjoy sleeping. If I could sleep twenty-four hours a day I would. I know it’s not healthy to feel this way, but I can’t help it. When I sleep is the only time I don’t hurt. I've never been a person who has dreams or at least not dreams I remember. So sleep has been my solace these last five months.
I've contemplated taking my life a few times. My reasoning behind this is that it is a permanent way for me to rest. I’m not able to go through with it though. Being brought up in a bible teaching home in the south, I was taught that suicide is a sin. Not that I think suicide is worse than any other sin. I mean, we all sin… but I don’t want to do something I blatantly know is wrong and won’t have a chance to repent for.
I can relate now to anyone who committed suicide. I understand it. I didn’t understand it before, but I do now.
My hand reaches to turn off the light switch. I don’t set an alarm clock because I couldn’t care less when I wake up. I know it is only 5pm, but my body craves the sleep. I turn over on my side and tuck a pillow b
My head hits the pillow and within a couple minutes I'm out cold.