Series: Sean Moriarty
Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“Jesus,” I blow out in a breath.
Am I fucked in the head or something?
Picking up a brush, I pull it through my hair.
I should be terrified of Jude, given what happened with Kyle.
I should be acting the cowering, battered woman.
But I’m not.
No, even the night we met in that alley, I slapped him. I fucking slapped him.
I never lashed out at Kyle. I tried to fight back once and only once. Tried to protect myself and quickly learned that wasn’t the best way to react. It only made him hit me harder and for longer.
I learned to play the passive opossum. Reacting as little as possible, hoping he would calm down.
I don’t think I’ve played opossum once with Jude. I’ve fought him every step of the way.
And fuck me if I know what it means.
Maybe I suffered some brain damage when he tried to choke me to death…
Gathering my hair up, I pull it all into a ponytail and secure it with an elastic that matches the shade of my hair.
Sick of looking at myself, I stride out of the bathroom and make my way to Abel’s room.
When Abel opens his eyes and smiles sleepily at me, I feel a moment of peace.
Everything is going to be okay.
For him, I’ll make it okay.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” I murmur as I pick him up.
Abel babbles back at me as I carry him over to the changing table.
A table that has been set up with everything a baby could possibly need.
Once I’ve changed his diaper and clothes, I carry him downstairs.
As I move through the house, I can’t help but feel like I don’t belong here.
Everything is too new, too nice, and too clean.
The place gives me serious anxiety, and I can’t relax, afraid I’m going to mess something up.
It’s like living in a museum twenty-four hours a day.
When I told Jude this, he gave me the strangest look. Unable to comprehend.
He told me to relax and just focus on Abel. The maid will take care of all the cleaning.
The maid…
If I stay here, I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to living this way. With all the dirty little nuisances of life taken care of for me.
But I know to Abel this will be all he’s ever known.
He’ll never hunger. He’ll never want for anything.
He’ll never go through all the shit I went through.
But can I live a lie the rest of my life?
Was it really a lie? the little nagging voice questions.
“Yes,” I reply firmly.
It has to be, because if it’s not…
My mood growing gloomier by the second, I get Abel set up in his highchair and make him breakfast. While he’s happily munching on his Cheerios, I walk over to the window and peek outside.
A big black SUV is sitting in the driveway, not even attempting to hide. Just like the last time Jude left.
The private security left for my ‘protection’.
Which is simply a nice way of saying they were left so I don’t try to run away.
Snapping the curtain back into place in irritation, I check on Abel then pace around the kitchen.
I don’t even need to check the back window. No doubt there’s a man stationed in the backyard again.
Chewing on my bottom lip, the walls start to close in on me.
All my choices, my entire fucking life, that brought me to this moment start to suffocate me.
The kitchen is bigger than my last apartment, but it feels too small. Too confining.
If I don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to lose my damn mind.
“Fuck, I need some space,” I grumble to myself.
Abel giggles and slaps his hands against his tray, sending Cheerios flying.
My anxiety immediately spikes as the Cheerios hit the floor. The white marble is so clean and shiny, I can almost see my reflection.
Squatting down next to the highchair, I start to pick up every Cheerio.
At first, Abel watches me with innocent curiosity.
But once I have everything picked up, he giggles and knocks more cereal down on me. Thinking it’s a game.
“Please don’t make a mess,” I tell him, but I know it’s pointless.
He doesn’t understand. How could he? He’s only a baby.
He’s not afraid that Jude will think he’s trash if he leaves a mess.
The game goes on for a few minutes, until Abel has knocked down more than he’s eaten.
“Don’t be whining at me in five minutes that you’re hungry, mister,” I tell him sternly as I get him out of the highchair.
Oblivious to my mood, he babbles and clings happily to my side as I carry him to his playpen in the living room.
Once he’s settled, playing with his brand new toys, I pace around some more.
Not knowing what to do with myself.
The house is immaculate. There’s nothing for me to clean or pick up.
No errands to run.
The maid does the laundry, so I’m at a complete loss.