Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“Why would anyone follow me?” I ask.
She turns around to face me, a mild look of annoyance on her face. “People are pissed at you, Raya.”
I shrug, unconcerned about anyone's feelings at this point. “It's not my fault they don't like the fact that I made choices they don't agree with.”
Lauren immediately shakes her head. “They're pissed about the energy, the money and the time spent looking for you. Colleges organized search parties. Every day, Americans spent hours and days with their eyes glued to the television, waiting for your safe return. People care about you.”
I shake my head, rejecting her words. “People like to be involved in the drama,” I say with a sigh. “It's more about them getting themselves in the spotlight than any true concern about anything else. People have gotten so used to putting every second of their lives on social media that they can't do something nice or grieve, feel happy or feel sad without telling the world about it. I'm over all of it. I want privacy. I want to make my own choices.”
“You don't regret what you've done?” she asks but I can't sense judgment in her tone.
“Not one bit,” I say without missing a beat. “My choices are my own. People being upset with them aren't my concern. I came here to ask for help,” I say unable to hide the irritation in my voice. “If I wanted a lecture, I would have stayed in Austin.”
Chapter 39
Liam
I'm living my life in a series of before Raya. Before Raya, I could enjoy a shower alone. Before Raya, I could get a couple of hours of sleep every night. Before Raya, I could see a blonde walking down the street that didn't make me stop in my tracks.
It's not that I blame her for how I am now. It's that I almost hate myself for being weak enough to let a month change me so drastically. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes but it does nothing to ease the exhaustion I feel.
I told myself after Austin and my gift to her that I was done living. If I didn't end up eating the end of my gun, I had no intention of staying in Texas. This recent trip to Mexico notwithstanding, I haven't been able to leave my home state.
The only way I've been able to find the ability to function on whatever small level I've managed the last couple of weeks is to live and operate in complete seclusion. I consider it a moment of sanity as to why I answered the phone yesterday when Angel called.
That moment of sanity has a long shelf-life because here I am, sitting outside of this shitty hut, in a no name Mexican town. He had a job for me and I took it, which is stupid on so many levels or maybe it's genius. Maybe my level of distraction and my new hatred for life will collide here today. Maybe it's why I'm sitting in this shitty truck, watching the front of the house rather than climbing out and actually doing any type of reconnaissance.
No one has come or gone for the last half hour. But watching a place for thirty minutes never provides any real intel. Instead of waiting for real information or trying to work out the tree traffickers schedule, I climb out of the truck. I've only seen one shadow at a time inside, but that doesn't mean it’s the same person moving around in the house.
But all my give-a-fucks are gone. I don't stick to the shadows as I approach the front porch. Caution and my will to live are nowhere to be found. I think I knew this was a suicide mission when I accepted the job from Angel.
I kick open the front door the second I reach it. At least I have my gun out and raised. At least there’s a chance I may take one of these sick fucks out with me before I go down myself.
A television flickering on the other side of the room accounts for the shadows I saw earlier. The house seems empty and for some reason even after being so determined to die here tonight, relief washes over me. I consider the half bottle of bourbon I drank in the truck, in the last half hour, my final mistake when I see a shadow move behind me.
I won’t even have to worry about the headache I'll have tomorrow when I'm struck in the head because all of my problems end here tonight.
***
Ask and you shall receive. The words bounce around my head as pain filters into my body. I wanted to die and now that it's a real possibility, I hate that I let those thoughts infiltrate my mind. Dying means never seeing Raya again on this plane or the next.