Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 150968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.
My back burns, and the pain is so intense, I can barely breathe at one point, but I keep counting. Some lines are straight, but there are a few that are curved. I recognize each line; I have them memorized. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen.
“You have everything, but you’re still an ungrateful piece of shit!”
I have nothing.
Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.
“You would have been a nobody if my name was not attached to you!”
I am a nobody.
Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty.
I bite my tongue until the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. My fingers clench into fists as I force myself to stay in place, holding myself off the floor. The leather belt continues striking my back, until my agony morphs into resentment.
I don’t know how long he keeps going for, but eventually, the beating stops. Two hundred and fifty-two. That’s how many lines I was able to count.
My father’s breathing is ragged and I hear him buckle his belt again. My body is tense, but my insides are shaking so much, I feel like I’m going to retch all over his polished floors.
“Get him out of my sight,” my father sneers, his voice filled with unadulterated hate.
Cole rushes to stand up, and I see him reaching for me, but I shake my head sharply. No.
I force myself to my feet and straighten my back. Pain digs under my flesh, but it’s a companion that I welcome with open arms. The pain reminds me that I’m at least still alive. Still breathing.
Sienna is standing by the shelves again; her face is expressionless. Sometimes she reminds me of an unfeeling mannequin.
I pull my shirt back over my head before walking out of my father’s office. The door closes behind me with a soft click and I inhale a shuddering breath.
The flesh on my back feels like it has been torn and shred open with a decaying knife. By the time I make it to my room, my feet are dragging behind me before I fall into my bed.
Burying my face into my pillow, I let out a silent, hollow scream. Hate and misery claw under my skin and dig into the marrow of me.
I haven’t moved yet when my door opens and then closes again. My bed dips under a heavy weight. “I’m going to tell him the truth,” Cole finally speaks, after a long minute of silence.
“No,” I deadpan.
“He thinks the accident is your fault. But it’s all lies!”
Lifting my head from the pillow, I look at my twin. He has his face in his hands, and I hear a muffled cry. “It’s not fair that you have to take all the blame. I hate that you won’t let me tell him the truth.”
The plan was to completely hide the accident from my father. He was out of the country for two weeks, and we thought it’d be enough time for us to heal. And we would come up with a lame excuse for Cole’s broken leg and the plaster.
But when Cole’s injuries turned out to be more severe than expected…and with his limp, we had to quickly come up with a story while still covering up the truth. Sienna is the mastermind behind our lies. She said she’d protect us — to leave everything in her hands, even handling my father and his anger.
So, Cole and I went along with whatever lies she told our father.
I drove the car. We hit a tree because I was stupidly speeding.
I caused the accident that left Cole with a shattered leg.
I am the reason why Cole’s life is ruined.
Our father doesn’t know about Josie. Or how she died. He doesn’t know about the other car, the other victim.
Who turned out to be the mayor’s daughter. He doesn’t know that it was our car that killed her. No one knows — except me, Cole and Sienna.
It’s a truth we will take to our grave.
My twin brother rubs his face tiredly. “Why are we even lying?”
“Because if the truth comes out, our reputation will be ruined.”
“We already are ruined.” He laughs humorlessly. “Look at us, Colton!”
“And if Dad finds out the truth, he’ll probably kill us in anger.”
Cole goes silent at my words. Only he and I know what our father is truly capable of.
He is a murderer.
He killed our mother.
Violently pushed her down the stairs, and then cried over her dead body as if he didn’t just kill her himself. Cole and I saw. We heard it when her neck snapped.
I still remember that day as if it was yesterday. I can still hear their arguing, echoing in my ears, her screaming at my father for being a “heartless bastard” and him calling her a “cheating whore.”
And I can still hear his fake crying as the cops stormed in. How he manipulated them and how they believed his lies when he told them she slipped down the stairs.