Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
What did the man who saved me do to the other man? I should have asked. Maybe I’ll go back and ask.
I shake my head. No, no, I don’t want to know.
But what if there are photos? I cringe at the thought of evidence from what happened spreading around.
And then I tell myself not to be stupid, and it wasn’t my fault.
The hot water from the shower steams up the mirror as I look at myself. My red hair is a mess of curly locks in need of a good brush, and my green eyes are sleepy and scared.
How could Kyler walk past me and not see there was something wrong?
I turn away from my hazy reflection, then step into the shower and wet my head. The minute I do, I pull back and cover my mouth as a scream rips out of me so loud I scare myself. My body shakes with the pent-up exhaustion and after-effects of whatever drug that asshole gave me.
Then I remember stitches.
Deciding against washing my hair, I scrub the rest of my body before I step out, grab a fluffy white towel, and wrap myself in it.
Today I had plans. There are many work chores to organize.
But as I look at my bed, I know I can’t function, so I climb in, acknowledging I’ll be doing absolutely nothing.
I grab my phone and try to search for the man who helped me, but I have no clue what the place is called or even how to look for him. I remember the location, and that’s it.
Maybe I will go back.
Or maybe I should let sleeping dogs lie and never visit that place again.
The last option is definitely the safest.
Chapter 5
Am I biddable?
Oriana
“Are you ready?”
I slide on my heels as Kyler walks in, dressed in a suit with a bright blue tie to match his light blue shirt. I spent all week in bed, and not once did my husband ask what was wrong with me or if I was okay. Come to think of it, I hardly saw him until he kindly reminded me yesterday of the gala we are to attend tonight.
I considered telling him no.
I wanted to tell him no.
But I knew it was time to stop ordering food, laying in bed all day and night, and I was going to have to start living again.
I didn’t automatically fall in love with Kyler in high school. In fact, he was dating someone else the first time we spoke. We ended up having English together and were paired up for an assignment. I had known who he was, but we had never really spoken. I wasn’t in the same circles he was in. Not that I didn’t have friends, I simply didn’t have as many friends as he did. Kyler was born to be famous. He’s the kind of person everyone loves.
I came to realize early on I understood why.
He had charm.
Charisma.
The man was captivating.
I could sit there and listen to him talk for hours.
By the end of our senior year, he was single, and he casually asked me to go to a party. At the time, I thought I may not have heard him right because Kyler, the most popular guy in our school, wanted to take me, a lover of everything he isn’t, to a party.
He played his guitar on breaks at school.
I sat in a corner and read books.
I wanted to be a doctor and was studying to achieve that goal, but then I fell for Kyler, and from that day, I agreed to almost everything he asked.
Even the stupid things.
He was my first, well, everything.
When he said he wanted to move to a different state after graduation to pursue his musical aspirations, I told him I would follow. When he asked me for help managing his books and personal affairs, I gladly accepted.
In return, I lost me.
My identity.
My soul and essence.
“Are those your new heels?” Kyler asks, motioning to my shoes from the doorway. I am wearing a silver dress, with heels that don’t belong to me. But I guess they do now. I glance down at them and remember the man with charcoal eyes, then look back to my husband’s hazel eyes and nod my head.
“Hmm…” he replies before he turns and walks off.
I grind my molars before taking one last look at myself in the mirror. My silver dress is long and has a small train at the back. With a split up the side, it hugs my body and shows a fair amount of cleavage. No straps hold it in place, but it is tied at the back. I fought with the idea of adding a necklace, but in the end, I decided less is more with this color. I grab a pink purse to match my pink shoes and walk outside to find my husband already sitting in the car, waiting. I slide in next to him, and the driver takes off.