Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 76736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Never again.
“I get them too.”
“I know.”
“Right. I remember. I wasn't very appreciative then, but I'm glad you woke me up that time. I was about to wake you now, but you did it on your own.” She crouches, keeping her legs closed so her charms are hidden in shadow, but fuck if her looking up at me like that isn't having me hardening up again. Maybe I should've jumped in after all.
On the bed, Hero and Wild Child are dead to the world, sleeping the sleep of the well-fucked. “You wore them out.”
She glances over her shoulder and giggles softly. “Maybe, but I'm going to walk funny in the morning. God, everyone's going to know.”
“Pretty sure the whole building already does, even if they didn't see you go with us. You're not quiet when you come.”
I could watch that blush every day. “Well, I mean, I—”
“It's fine. No one gives a fuck. We're adults here. You should get some sleep. I'll just go to my room.”
“Want company?” If this was one of the sluts, I would've figured she was looking for another round, but that's not the vibe I get from Emily. It's concern. Fuck, when was the last time someone looked at me like that?
Allison.
If I let her come, she's going to want me to talk about it, and that's not my scene. My pains are my own. But she's got her own pains too, and maybe we're not as different as I like to think. You know what? Fuck it. “Sure.”
“Sec. Let me put on some clothes. Where the heck did they throw my shirt? Or the pants? Did they hide them or something? It's too dark in here.”
“Here.” I peel my shirt off and toss it at her. Not like she isn't wearing all of our clothes anyway. I'm just the last one to add to the pile.
After a moment's thought, she puts it on. “I guess it covers the essentials at least.”
We get to my room without seeing anyone. She takes a seat on the edge of my bed while I go to the cabinet to pull out a bottle of whiskey. “Want some?”
“Now?”
“I'm having some.”
At first I think she'll turn me down, but then she nods. “Okay.”
I pour two tumblers, about half the amount in hers, then down mine real quick before re-pouring it. “Here.” She takes her glass as I sit beside her. “So what are your nightmares about?”
“I thought we were here about you.” She hides her expression behind the glass as she takes a sip. Her expression tightens as it burns down her throat.
“Fuck you. If we're bringing this shit out in the open, we're both spilling. I didn't bring you here to psychoanalyze me.” I fix my eyes on hers. “Or we can just fuck, or go back to Wild Child's. Whatever.”
“You already know, I think. They're about Dad.”
“When he hits you? Or fuck, is it more than that?” My determination to remove Kurt Hawthorne from the gene pool grows stronger every time his cursed name comes up.
She shakes her head quickly. “No! No, he never… he's quick to anger, and quick to hit, but he's never… you know.” She rests her glass on her lap and looks down at it.
“Good.” I take a swig. “Hitting is fucked enough.”
“But the dreams are bad. They're so much more creative than I could ever be, and I hate it. He's never used more than his hands, but there's this… this wild look in his eyes when it happens. Like he's barely controlling himself, and I'm always sure he's just going to go that extra step, take it further. In my dreams, he comes at me with fire pokers, switches, whips. Instead of bruises and aches, he tears my flesh, beats me bloody and leaves me to bleed out. The memories of the dreams fade pretty quickly, at least the goriest details, but the feeling doesn't. There's a reason I spend so much time hiding in my books and playing music.”
With every detail, she seems to slump just a little more. I put an arm around her to pull her close and she buries her face in my chest. Then sobs.
Fuck. Hero's the one who's good at this shit. I don't know how to deal with crying, but it looks like I'm going to have to.
So I pull her close and lie back on the bed, dragging her with me. It lets her rest more comfortably and gives me more space to wrap myself around her. She's safe here, and I want her to fucking know it. With a hand cradled behind her head, I pull her face against my chest and let her cry it out.
I don't promise her it'll be all right, because I can't do that, but keeping her safe, that I can do.