Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
“You’ve done well for yourself,” he murmurs, ignoring my instruction in favor of a slow stroll along the adjacent wall. “Your brother must’ve helped.”
As his head turns over his shoulder, I ignore the malicious gleam. There’s no way in hell he’s getting paid off a second time.
I’m not the person I was back then.
But would I tell this time?
“You choose this one?” he asks, pointing at Tod’s gaping metal vagina.
“I need you to leave.” Fuck off. Explode. Disappear in a puff of smoke. I don’t care which.
“See,” he says, stretching his shoulders, “I don’t think I will.”
“Fine. I’ll call the police.” I pivot on weak legs, cursing that this dress doesn’t have pockets. I’d have my phone. “Trespassing is a criminal offense.” No matter what passed between us five years ago.
The police won’t care that he stole my virginity—took what I wasn’t ready to give. That he dumped me the same week to move on to my so-called friend. They weren’t there to witness my crumbling. I’d felt dirty and discarded. Like I would never be clean again.
Would it have mattered to them that I was drunk? Maybe even a little high? It didn’t matter the evening I launched a brick through his window when he called them.
Being under the influence was not an excuse, but it was the reason I spent the night in their cells.
Whit sorted it out and paid Julian off so he didn’t press charges.
I wanted to tell my brother that he deserved nothing but pain—I wanted to scream it. Wasn’t I the victim? But I kept my secret. Turned it inward. Let it explode outward, knocking my life off course for a a little while.
It was my story. My choice to share it or not. But the story ended. Fin.
I moved on. I’ll be damned if there will ever be so much as a postscript, let alone a sequel.
“You don’t want to do that.” My wrists in his hands, his soft voice is menacing. “Not after what you did last time.”
“Get the fuck off me.” I’m not that girl. I am every woman. Hear me roar eternally, even as a tear tracks down my cheek.
The glass in my hand now smashed against the counter. Shards slicing my bare leg. The jagged edges embedded now in his thigh.
“You stupid fucking bitch!” His hands fall away, his face rage filled.
My lashes flutter, and a thought flits across my brain. Did I just make things better or worse?
“You’re gonna pay for this.”
I shake my head. “I already have.” I throw the glass, not bothering to see where it lands as I pivot away, my mind screaming run!
30
RAIF
My fingers unfurl, and I push Tod away. “Make no mistake, this doesn’t mean we are friends.”
“No.” Tod’s shoulders slump. “But you’ll be good to her, won’t you?”
“That’s none of your fucking concern.”
A scream rings out from the gallery. My blood runs cold, my feet already moving as I push Tod out of the way, his shoulder colliding with the wall of the narrow hallway.
My legs piston, my jacket suddenly tight, fastening like claws around my shoulders. I round the corner, almost knocking Primrose over as she appears from the kitchen.
“Is that Lavender? I think it is,” she calls after me. Like I don’t know—like I can’t feel her distress in the marrow of my bones.
A shout this time, then a thump. The sound of things hitting the floor.
I almost fall myself, my shoe leather slipping on the polished floor as I round a corner to find a man holding Lavender in a corner. Fury bursts through me as he shakes her, his hands pinning her forearms, his hips—
“Fucking psycho!” he yells.
“I’ll tell—I’ll tell them this time!”
“Who’d believe you? Argh! You fucking bitch!” he bellows as Lavender rakes her nails down his face, her expression so fucking fierce. “You’ll pay for that!”
Someone is paying. Someone always pays.
He lifts his right arm and, before I can reach them, brings the back of his hand hard across her cheek. She cries out, and my heart feels her pain.
Luis bursts through the front door. But I get there first, wrapping my right arm around the fucker’s neck, his trachea pressed against the crook of my elbow.
“What the—”
“Get your fuckin’ hands off my wife.” Six words deliver staccato, matching the fist I hammer to the side of his face. It’s a waste of energy but satisfying to hear him yelp. With a grunt, I tighten my grip. “Dumb fuck. Save your breath,” I grunt as I clasp my hands behind his neck. To squeeze. “You’re gonna need it.”
“You—”
I yank him backward, his heels scrabbling for purchase on the floor. Not finding any as I choke him into unconsciousness. His body goes slack, crumpling to the floor as Lavender slides down the wall.
“Sweetheart.” I scan her neck, her face, my hands running over her, desperate to make sure she’s whole. “Say something, please.”