Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 94457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
“I know you’re awake, and I know you’re going to ask me a million and one questions, so get to it, so we can go to bed before the sun starts to rise.”
Not even a second after I’ve started to speak does the blanket get tossed to the floor, and Scarlet sits up on the bed, her legs crossed, her eyes filled with wonder.
“Who is she? How long have you been friends with her? Why didn’t you take her on a date since you clearly like her?” The questions all come out at once like word vomit.
“Aspen is a friend,” I lie. I’m not about to tell her what she really is to me. “And I wouldn’t say I like her. I tolerate her, more or less.”
Scarlet gives me a look, the kind that says: I know more than you think. “You don’t have to lie to me, brother. I know you like her.”
I almost laugh. If Scarlet knew the things I’ve done to Aspen, she would change her mind. “You think I like her?”
Scarlet nods her head, a smile on her lips. “Yes, and I think she likes you too. I don’t know why you and Matteo didn’t just switch dates. Neither of you seemed happy with your selections.” Sometimes, I forget how intuitive she is to her surroundings.
“Even if I wanted to, I can’t like her. Aspen is Clyde Mather’s daughter. The same guy who snitched on Dad and caused our house to be raided,” I explain.
“Oh.” Scarlet’s smile falters, and sadness flickers through her eyes as she remembers that day.
A spark of curiosity ignites in my brain. “You wouldn’t be mad if I liked Aspen?”
“What happened wasn’t her fault, and I can’t blame her for something her parents did.” She looks away for a long moment, and sadness creeps onto her face. I toss my jacket onto the desk and cross the room, ready to console her, when she lifts a hand and looks back at me.
“What is it?”
“It’s just, I haven’t seen you interested in anything as much as it seems you’re interested in her, not since Adela’s death.”
Suddenly, the air feels heavier, and every breath I take is weighted. “What she and I share. It’s not like that…”
“No, stop. I’m happy to see you like this, and believe it or not, I like her too. She’s sweet and pretty.” A smile lights up her face once more, and my heart starts to beat normally again. Scarlet is all I have left, and to hurt her in any way would wound me beyond repair.
“I’m glad you like her, and I agree, she’s very pretty.” I smile.
Scarlet’s smile becomes a fully-fledged grin. “I knew you liked her. You can’t lie to me, Q. I know you better than you think!” She punches the air with her fist like she won some unknown victory, and I roll my eyes, gathering up my pajamas for bed.
“Sure, you do. When I get back in here, you better be ready to go to sleep.”
“What are you talking about? I was already sleeping, but then you came in and rudely woke me up.”
“Right, sure you were, with snakes for legs.”
“Shut up!” She laughs and tosses a pillow at me.
These are the things I miss. I need these moments because without them, without the little glimpses of light, I’m afraid I might be eaten by the darkness that continually grows like a cancer that can’t be beat. Aspen helps keep the monsters at bay, but what happens when that’s not enough? What happens when the need for control overpowers me? I don’t allow myself to dwell on the thought longer, not when it hits me that if Scarlet realized I showed an interest in Aspen, then our parents definitely did as well.
32
ASPEN
The next morning, my head is pounding, and before I even head to the cafeteria for breakfast, I pop some Advil into my mouth and swallow it down with some bottled water. I give the medicine a few minutes to work and get dressed.
Things go from bad to worse when I build up the courage to look in the mirror and discover that my black eye has gotten blacker and even more swollen.
“Just my luck!” I growl to no one but myself.
The black eye forces me to go through my clothing once more, and I find a hoodie in the mess of clothes. Staring at my reflection, I try to conjure up some type of plan. If I leave my hair down and put the hood up, I should be able to hide the black eye, that’s if I don’t have to look at anyone. Doubt starts to flicker in my mind. The idea is going to backfire on me. I just know it, but it’s the only option I have. I can’t stay in my room and not eat.