Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Maybe they simply threw it all away.
All I knew was it was like there wasn't a single trace of him left by the time Sammy started painting the walls a light rose pink.
Only his pictures stayed in the frames in the hall.
I would stop and look at them, feeling the loss like an ache that refused to go away.
I had no idea where he was.
If he was okay.
If he had food, water, medicine if he felt unwell.
The uncertainty, for me, was maybe the worst part of the whole situation.
In my mind, his image had started to blur, so I stopped to drink his image in, make the picture of him inside my head sharpen again, reminding myself that he was strong, he would be okay.
"Come on, Lou Lou, you know you want to get out of this room," Sammy told me, standing in my doorway, kicking a discarded sneaker with the tip of her heel-clad shoe."It smells like gym clothes and corn chips in here."
Because I had gone for a run and eaten corn chips and salsa. It was my version of balance. Kept me from getting too pudgy around the middle.
"I don't like going out with your friends, Sammy," I reminded her, always brutally honest with her.
"I know. But this is just the two of us. Come on. You need to get out of the house. You've been sulking for a week straight."
"Did Mom and Dad put you up to this?" I grumbled.
"Not everyone is out to screw you over, Lou," she said, rolling her eyes. "I just want to spend some time with you."
"Why?"
"Because you're my sister," she told me, exasperated.
Something about her words rang true to me, and a stab of guilt pierced my belly for being a crummy sister. Always surly, always too quick with a sarcastic comment. "What kind of movie?" I asked, fundamentally opposed to anything lovey-dovey.
"Your pick," she offered.
"Even if it is R-rated?" I asked, knowing that she had just turned seventeen, could buy us the tickets.
"Even if it is R-rated," she agreed, giving me a smile.
"Okay," I agreed, feeling a bit of excitement well up inside.
I couldn't tell you how long it had been since I had spent time outside the house with my sister, despite being close in age. Her friends looked down on me; I looked down on them. And she felt in the middle when I was around. So I didn't hang out anywhere near them. I was always a bit of a loner anyway. At least since Monty was kicked out.
We went to the movie, Sammy pretending to like it even though I caught her studying her lap in the more brutal scenes.
Afterward, we got slices of pizza.
I'd begged her to stop for milkshakes because, even at that age, I was a bottomless pit with a large appetite.
But Sammy had insisted we get home.
It had been late.
It wasn't safe to walk around when a certain crowd started walking the street.
I'd dragged my feet.
I shouldn't have dragged my fucking feet.
If we had gone home when she had wanted to, everything might have been different.
But that wasn't how it happened.
Wishful thinkings and bitter regrets changed nothing.
The reality was, we walked home way later than we should have, the streets mostly abandoned because most people abided by the unspoken rule. There was the occasional homeless person or junkie to cross paths with, but as a whole, it felt very much like we were alone. Like we were the two clueless girls in some horror movie. Even I felt anxiety like a coiled snake in my belly, and I was never one prone to worry.
It was like something within me knew to be scared, knew something was wrong, there was danger on the streets.
But there was no way to get home without being on them, so I stifled the voice inside me, and kept going, moving close to Sammy's side whose eyes were darting around like a deer.
Except neither of us could have actually seen it coming.
Because they came from behind.
Arms around torsos, hands over mouths.
We were off our feet before we could even think to scream.
My eyes tried to scan for faces, for someone to help. Or for things, weapons, something to defend my sister and myself with.
But there was nothing.
Just an empty warehouse.
Just piles of dirt, and paper garbage in the corners.
Nothing. There was nothing.
And there seemed to be five of them.
Even if I could break free, take down the guy dragging me up the stairs, I was still outnumbered.
It wasn't in my nature to give in, though.
I kicked out, clawed, slammed my head back into my attacker.
To no avail.
The creaking of a door let me know we were done climbing, the nip of air that we were outside.
The roof, most likely.
The idea was confirmed a moment later when I was swung around to see a long, flat space, old air conditioning units cutting off a part of my view of where we were.