Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Because even that, she treats like a personal offense. Like I’m reflecting poorly on her somehow.
“First night in a new house,” Paul offers, all warm and smiling again. Like Carter, he wears his blond hair short. Unlike Carter, there’s genuine kindness in his blue eyes. “It’s not easy. But I want you to know this is your home now, and it would make me so happy if you became comfortable here. If there’s anything you need, anything at all, tell me right away, and I’ll make it happen if I can.”
How about you get your son to stop staring daggers at me like I stole something from him? I mean, he’s not even subtle about it. He wants me to know he hates me. He won’t stop until I know it.
No. I don’t think that’s enough. He wants a reaction out of me, and it’s driving him crazy not to get one. Am I supposed to apologize? He’s a spoiled baby who can’t handle being denied. A spoiled baby with a very muscular body.
I won’t dare take a glance across the table now, while he’s glaring at me like I’m the human embodiment of the Black Plague, but I’ve gotten enough glimpses of him so far to know he’s strong. Those thick arms and that broad chest tell me he spends time working out, taking care of himself. That doesn’t give me a lot of confidence, since I can’t even do a pull-up, much less fight off somebody so much bigger than me. He’s got at least a foot on me in height, too.
But he wouldn’t try to hurt me physically… would he?
Who am I kidding? I know exactly how far people will go if it means breaking an innocent person’s spirit. And he seems like just the kind of person who would consider breaking my spirit a sport.
Something tells me he won’t quit until he’s crowned champion.
That’s why I excuse myself from the table the second I finish the cake that tastes like cotton in my mouth. Whatever it takes to get away from this table and the entire ugly charade being played out here.
I will not let you ruin this for me—my loving mother’s final words as we pulled up in front of the house earlier today with a moving van behind us. You had better start learning how to be a normal person, and fast, because I am not going to help you. This is my time! Do you hear me?
I heard her loud and clear. Was I supposed to be surprised? She has done everything she can to separate herself from me over the years. The criticism, the disdain. There are times I think it will drown me. I couldn’t even tell her about what I went through in high school.
Don’t think about that now.
Too late. Being around that spoiled, snobby bully brings it all back.
Not now. Later. I have to force myself to push the memories aside—if only so Paul doesn’t hold me up by asking if everything’s okay. I know everything I’m thinking shows on my face.
I just want to get to my room, where I can be alone.
I should know by now it isn’t that easy.
“I think I’ll head up and finish a little homework,” Carter announces as he gets up from the table. “Gotta pull the grades, right?”
There’s something about the way Paul’s head cocks to the side that tells me he sees through this bullshit excuse. I doubt Carter is big on studying. People like him never are. “See if Elliana needs help with anything up there. Maybe taking suitcases up to the attic?” he asks me.
Does he notice the ripple of tension that runs through his son? Maybe he does notice but doesn’t care. The man is determined to force this family thing down everybody’s throats. It’s nice of him, but he’s trying too hard. I wish I could tell him not to bother.
But how can I do that when I can’t get up the courage to tell him I will be fine getting my room straightened out and don’t need any help? Scared of my own shadow—something Mom has accused me of too many times. Not that she’s wrong. I wish she was.
If I refuse now, I’ll only look ungrateful. That, plus Mom’s sharp, unforgiving look, means I duck my head and start out for the stairs. Carter’s heavy footsteps follow behind me, and every step pairs with an angry grunt. He’s trying to send a message. This is my home, and you don’t belong here. He might as well tattoo it across his forehead.
I wonder if he’d believe me if I told him I don’t want to be here any more than he wants me here. I would rather go back to living in a house a fraction of the size, so long as it meant not having to interact—being forced into this new family dynamic. I never asked for this. Will he believe me?