Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
I know, but when she’s taken her meds, there’s no point waking her up anyway. She’ll be too groggy to understand what’s going on.
What about your dad? Have you heard from him?
I sigh, my chest getting tight as it often does when I think about what sort of father-daughter relationship other people might have. No, and I don’t think I will. When he vanishes, he never contacts us. He just comes home when he feels like it. Mom takes him back, like always. To be honest, I don’t think Dad even cares about me.
Oh, jeez. I’ve already clicked send. Something about texting with him tears all my walls down, but I have to try to keep them up. I have to use my head, not my heart.
Why do you say that? he asks.
It’s too late now, and truthfully, I want to talk with him about this, even if it makes no sense. He’s never really shown me any love. I always get the feeling he didn’t want kids. I can’t remember him showing me any affection or support, even when I was little.
That’s goddamn unacceptable, Elio texts. A man should love and support his daughter.
Something thuds into me, a heavy fist of emotion. I didn’t even think about the very likely possibility that Elio might already have a girlfriend, a wife, and kids. Do you have children?
No, he replies. But I value family. It’s the most important thing. If I ever had a daughter, I’d be there for her. Always.
Closing my eyes, I caution myself to slow down. I shouldn’t let his words trigger a torrent of fantasy inside me. I shouldn’t think about the first time Elio holds our daughter, the love beaming from him, the look he’ll give me, both of us sharing in the perfection of the moment.
But we’re getting off topic, he goes on. You’re in danger, Scarlet. Right now. Being in the same apartment where that lowlife visited puts you at risk. I swear to you—I swear on my little brother, on my sick father, on my mother—I’m going to protect you. I’m not going to betray you. Please, trust me.
I bite down, knowing this could be a mistake, but also, he’s right, isn’t he? If they were working together, he could find me. Surely, a man like Elio has ways of finding this information anyway. Deep inside, something pulses. If I wanted to dance down Crazy Street, I’d think it was my womb, as if my fierce desire for a family with him is making me trust him.
Yeah, that’s nuts, but so is this. I’m typing out my address. I stop several times and try to drum some sense into myself. I keep going, on and on, until the full address is typed out. Hovering my thumb over the send button, I try to convince myself one last time.
I don’t know this man. He’s a stranger. He’s a criminal. He could’ve lied about everything he’s said so far. So what if he swore on his family? These are just words. People can say anything they want, and yet I click send anyway.
Thank you, he replies. I’m going to be there soon.
Wait… YOU’RE going to keep watch?
For tonight. I can’t sleep anyway. Then we’ll figure out a long-term strategy. I still think trapping this bastard is the way to go.
But what if he sees you outside my apartment building? Won’t he know something’s up?
Yeah, that’s a good point. It would be easier if I were inside the apartment.
My heart starts drumming way too hard. The idea of him in here with me…
My mom would freak if she found a random man sleeping on the couch.
Who said I’d be on the couch? he replies, causing a shiver to dance over my body. I can take the floor in your bedroom. Then you can explain the situation to her in the morning.
It kind of already is morning.
Whenever she wakes up, then. I wouldn’t forgive myself if that bastard came to you tonight, and I could’ve stopped it.
Stuff like this is happening all over the city, I reply. Every single day.
But I can do something about this. Stop arguing with me. I’m coming over now. I’ll text you when I’m outside.
I stand, looking around my bedroom at my old, chipped karaoke set in the corner, the flaking wallpaper, the carpet with stains at the edges. I’ve gotten used to this dreary, depressing scene, and it’s not like I’ve ever had boys over before. Not that Elio is a boy.
I almost text him to tell him not to come, but he already has my address. If he’s going to hurt me… Have I made a serious mistake? Quietly walking into the kitchen, I take a knife from the cupboard, wondering if I’d have the guts to use it.
About twenty minutes later, I get a text. I’m outside your apartment door. The main entrance was open. Come and let me in.