Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
YOU’RE DEAD.
At first, it feels like this is happening to somebody else. This can’t be my room. I see it, but I don’t feel connected to it. My brain won’t let me.
But slowly, a little bit at a time, I’ve come to realize somebody broke into my room and tore it apart. Just because they could, and maybe because they were expected to.
In other words, the sneak attack wasn’t a fluke or an accident. They want to make sure I’m aware of what their intentions were and still are. Just because they couldn’t finish the job the first time around doesn’t mean I can breathe easy.
And knowing there won’t be repercussions for anything they do, things are only going to get worse.
23
LUCAS
“If you know what’s good for you, you will not step foot outside this room until I tell you to.”
“I told you I wouldn’t, and I won’t,” Charlotte fires back and closes the door in my face. I put her in an empty staff apartment. It’s close enough to mine that she can get to me if she needs anything without revealing herself. As far as I know, she’s fine and better stay that way. The only way she wouldn’t is if she left the apartment.
Knowing she’s there will eat away at me all night, and it will render me useless all day.
Then there is the fact that I have nothing to drink. No means of blotting out reality. There’s nothing to do but face it. Stare at it head-on.
What makes matters worse is the text I get.
Aspen: I feel like I could use a session. Do you have time?
Her timing is impeccable. If I didn’t know better, I’d bet on her knowing more than she’s supposed to. But no, it’s just another joke on me by the universe at large. The gods fucking with me, seeing how far they can push me this time.
Me: Sure, meet me at the gym.
A few minutes later, I head to the gym even though I can hardly keep my eyes open. I’m not sure what’s worse, pretending not to have a hangover or pretending not to be half dead from lack of sleep. Fighting to find a way through the tangled disaster my life has become.
If anything, I tell myself as I walk down the hall on the way to the gym, this could be a blessing in disguise. Now I have no choice but to come clean with her. No excuses, no avoidance. It’s the simplest thing in the world. All I have to do is get the fucking words to come out of my mouth.
Aspen, your mother is alive, and she’s here.
Dammit. I don’t know if I can do it. Why do I always go cold inside at the thought of telling her? I’m not at fault here. I didn’t keep Charlotte from her.
I had no idea she was alive until recently. It’s all a matter of telling the truth: I didn’t know how to explain it. I didn’t want to upset her. All I know is that this will hurt her, and that’s the last thing she deserves.
I don’t have the first fucking clue how to relate to my own daughter.
I’ll probably leave that part unspoken, though it’s no less true.
This isn’t one of those old sitcoms where the parents and kids sit down for a heart-to-heart. There will be no swelling of music. No canned laughter from the invisible audience. That’s not me. Never has been, never will be. I’m out to sea here, fighting to keep my head above water. Fighting against everything ingrained in me my entire life, and there isn’t a boat or life vest in sight.
Once I arrive at the gym, I find she’s already waiting for me. Of course she is. So eager. So ready to put the work in once she sets her mind to something.
Pride somehow leaks its way into my awareness, pushing aside exhaustion and hopelessness for a moment. I stand back and watch, amused at the way she attacks a heavy bag like she has a grudge against it.
“You keep leading with your head,” I point out.
She jumps and spins to face me, her face flushed from the exertion.
“You could let a person know you’re here. Jeez. I almost had to use my ninja moves on you.”
I barely manage to hide the smirk pulling at my lips. “I thought that’s what I was doing when I offered instruction just now. And if that’s your version of ninja moves, I think I’ll be okay. If you keep doing what you’re doing, you’ll never be able to hold your own against someone else.”
“What do you mean?”
I feel a sudden rush of relief. This, I can talk about. This, I know.
“When you throw a punch, you can’t push your head forward the way you do.” I demonstrate, bringing to mind a pigeon with my head bobbing back and forth.