 by Marie James.jpg)
Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
There’s no forgiveness for the things they made me do to her.
It would be easy to point fingers, but what about the part of me that liked it?
Something triggered that sickness and left me needy.
I made a choice to protect her when I could, but the need to hurt her again is always in the back of my mind.
The crazy thing is, I see that same darkness in her eyes when she looks at me.
If we survive captivity, there’s still no guarantee we’ll survive each other.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Prologue
Ayla
4 months ago
“You have that same disappointed look Mom always had.”
“I do not,” I argue, looking away from my sister because I know exactly what look she’s referencing.
“You’re annoyed with something, and your face says it all.”
Alani stares at the side of my head until I face her. I don’t respond immediately because I know if I share what’s annoying me, she’s going to remind me that she’s an adult, and I can’t coddle her for the rest of her life.
“It’s nothing,” I assure her with a quick smile rather than telling her that I know she left out the fact that she’s in a coed dorm rather than one with all women.
She narrows her eyes at me, the same blue as mine, sparkling with the almost too-bright overhead lights.
I want to growl in irritation when some bro-dude yells about partying twenty-four seven in the hallway.
“I know how important this is for both of us,” Alani says, the direction she’s taking shocking me.
She clasps my hand in hers, and the kind gesture makes my eyes burn.
“It’s college. I have to be here. I promise I won’t get into trouble or skip classes. I know there aren’t extra reserves in the bank to cover me if I fail.” Her voice begins to clog with her own unshed tears. “I won’t let you, or them, down. I promise.”
Them. Our parents. The sting of their deaths is still raw even three years later.
I have a million things I’d like to say. I can count at least a hundred mistakes I’ve made over the last couple of years as her guardian. A hundred things my parents would’ve handled differently had they not died in a car accident when I was twenty. But in a way, I was still a kid then too, thrust into adulthood and asked to raise a fifteen-year-old girl because letting her go anywhere else was out of the question. I don’t regret it.
Do I wish my parents were alive every single day? Of course I do. We both deserved more time with them.
“You have a long drive ahead of you,” Alani reminds me.
“Trying to get rid of me already?” I give her a smile, but I can’t handle much more than a twitch of my lips.
“If you cry, then I’m going to cry,” she warns.
I blow out a harsh breath, trying to get better control of myself. I know I can keep calm in front of her. It’s something I’ve mastered in the last couple of years. She didn’t need to see me cry when life got to be too much. It wasn’t her fault that the stress of making sure she was taken care of and nursing school was almost too much to handle. We got through it then, and we can get through it now. Her leaving for college was supposed to make things easier, but I’m certain her being four hours from our home in Plano will only increase my anxiety level.
“I’m going to need more lemur stuff,” she says, changing the subject, something she has always been good at when the topic of conversation got too serious. “Did you see that girl in the hallway? Everything she brought with her was white, black, and purple.”
“I’ll keep it in mind for Christmas.”
Just the thought of having to wait until the holidays to see her again makes my skin crawl and my throat threaten to close.
I know she chose Lindell University because she needed a break. I know there were times I was more than a little smothering, but it comes with the job of being her sister and her parent. There were rules after my parents’ deaths that didn’t exactly match her age and activity level. She wasn’t allowed to drive after dark. If she needed to be somewhere, I would take her because she definitely couldn’t ride with anyone else. It really put a damper on her social life because there were days I had class or study sessions before I graduated that prevented her from being very spontaneous.
“Stop,” she says, as she swipes at a few tears that have wandered down my cheeks. “I’m going to be fine.”
“Don’t get—”
“Don’t get in the car with anyone,” she interrupts. “I know. Everything in town is within walking distance to campus, remember? We looked at the map together.”
The small town of Lindell is just right off campus. It’s kitschy and cute. Very quiet and safe. At least that’s what the brochure that came with Alani’s “Welcome to Lindell” packet said. It’s close enough to Austin, about an hour west of the state capitol, to keep from feeling like the town is out of touch with the world, but just far enough away to maintain its individuality.
“I’ll be fine,” she says when all I can manage is trying to blink away my tears. “Now, I’m not rushing you off, but I need to organize my half of the room before my roommate gets here tomorrow. I don’t think she’ll be very impressed with the way I have all my stuff scattered on her side.”