Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
A tiny tendril of doubt snakes into my mind, working its way through my thoughts. If the doctor takes the girl away, then I can erase it all. I can disappear. Start a new life somewhere else and be free from the chains of this one.
You’ll never be free. As quickly as it surfaces, the hope burns out. There’s no going back. I’m man enough to admit I won’t survive without money, without my contacts and resources. All those things come with my name and my house. If I walk away, I’d lose everything, and who would get it all?
Fucking Tanya.
I’d rather die in agony, a painful, terrible death, than give that bitch one cent of my money or my inheritance.
I have only one choice, and it’s not even an actual fucking choice. I take another long draw from the bottle and stand. In the foyer, the doctor whispers softly. I exit the study, closing the door behind me. I’ll deal with all of that after I deal with her.
The doctor's attention swings to me as he turns and surveys my features. “You better now?”
I let out a mirthless grunt. “Not even close.”
He slides his hands under the girl's all-but-lifeless body, and I drag my gaze over her. Her white sundress is stained red, along with her fingers. I’m not sure how I manage it, but I force myself to look at her face. It’s battered and bruised like someone used her as their own personal punching bag. Did my grandfather do that to her?
The doctor eyes my hands, then my face again, his expression carefully neutral. “Did you do this to her?”
I shake my head, tilting my clean, unhurt fingers to the light. “No, I didn’t.”
Seeing these marks on her makes me want to fucking destroy someone on her behalf, and I don’t even know her. Inspecting her features a little closer, and even through the bruises and marks, I recognize her as someone I’ve seen on campus at Oakmount a time or two. Fuck me. Of course she attends Oakmount. Because nothing in my life can be complication-free.
“Help me lift her,” the doctor orders. He’s staring at me expectantly like he’s had to repeat himself while I wandered off mentally.
I nod once, crouch, and help him lift her slight weight. He probably could have lifted her by himself. She’s a tiny thing, fine-boned and fragile feeling in my arms. “We can take her to the staff wing. There’s no one back there right now, and she’ll have the space to herself.”
He nods, and I lead the way, both of us carrying her. We walk through the kitchen to the back of the house before turning down a long corridor. Once we reach the narrower hall, I shift the girl away from the doctor and more fully against my chest.
“I’ve got her. Just…keep going. Right through there.”
The doctor continues in front of me. The lighting is minimal, illuminating several doors farther down. I choose the first door we arrive at and adjust my hold while the doctor opens the door. Thankfully, fresh sheets are on the twin bed, tucked tight into the basic wooden frame. I gently place the girl on the gray wool blanket and take a wobbly step back.
Red. Blood.
It coats my fingers now, and I’m transported back in time.
My uncle’s drenched in blood, lying in the middle of the floor. The same floor covered in blood all over again. I blink, trying to make the memories fade, but that only intensifies them.
Tanya’s hands run over my shoulders and up my neck.
There’s so much blood.
“It’ll be okay, Sebastian.”
“Sebastian,” someone calls in the distance.
“Sebastian, are you with me? I need your help.” I snap back to reality with a shudder. Sweat beads on my brow, and a shiver courses through my body. I know the doctor needs me, but I can't help him. I can’t even help myself at this point.
With fear and panic clinging to my bones, I leave the room to rush down the hall and up the stairs, stopping only once I find the haven of my own room. On the nightstand is a bottle of whiskey, the one constant in my life. It’s never let me down, never hurt me. I rush across the room, grab it, and clutch it to my chest, knowing it’s the only thing capable of keeping me afloat in these dark waters.
Releasing a sigh, I bring the bottle to my lips and chug down the brown liquid inside. It doesn’t even burn. It’s like I’m drinking water.
Am I numb to the pain, or am I just too far gone to care?
The answer is irrelevant. Soon enough, the alcohol will kick in, stopping the runaway train of memories threatening to take me back to that night when I was sixteen. Fuck me, that was only five years ago now. Back then, I thought I was happy. That I would one day run a legitimate company with my uncle, who had raised me as his son.