Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 96404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
While football is what’s helped me cope through the years, it’s not what’s made me feel alive.
It’s not the reason I’m still unable to fucking breathe.
So no, I don’t give a fuck about football right now.
My grandparents are on either side of me as I talk to the detective in charge of my case. His name is Wyatt and he has a thick blond moustache that covers most of his mouth.
He and another officer stand by my bed as I relay how I was shot in the forest and then taken with Naomi. I tell them about the cell and that fucker Ren.
I tell them that Naomi suspects it has something to do with her father, but when he asks me his name, I’m lost.
She’s never mentioned it. I suspect she doesn’t even know it.
“You need to find her,” I insist. “She’s been in there for three fucking days since I left and we only survived on water for three days before that.”
She could be trapped. Or worse.
Maybe the hallucination I had before losing consciousness earlier was true and she’s ruined beyond repair.
But even if that’s the case, I’ll stand by her side until the end.
Even if she pushes me away.
Even if she calls me names.
Even if she fucking hates me.
“Now, that’s the problem.” The detective shares a look with his colleague, then focuses back on me. “Miss Naomi Chester was never reported missing.”
“What?”
He flips through his notepad. “Her mother, Ms. Riko Chester, never reported her missing.”
That can’t be possible considering how protective she is of her daughter. “She could’ve been looking for her on her own, or maybe she’s been in contact with Naomi’s father.”
“That isn’t the case, Mr. Weaver. Ms. Riko confirmed to the police that she was getting ready to go on a trip with her daughter. They left yesterday.”
“They couldn’t have. Naomi was with me the whole fucking time.”
“They did, though. A day after you were dropped off at the emergency room.”
I stare between him and my grandmother as if that will somehow help me make sense of his words. Mrs. Weaver’s lips twist in disapproval, probably because I insisted on talking to the police and kept asking about Naomi’s safety.
She still doesn’t like me involved with her, but fuck her opinion.
Fuck anyone who thinks that I can’t be with Naomi.
“You must’ve gotten the wrong person, detective,” I grind out through my teeth, which puts a strain on my wound.
“No. We did, in fact, talk to Ms. Naomi Chester before she and her mother left for the airport. She said she hadn’t seen you since the day you disappeared.”
The airport.
Naomi lied to the police and then left the country?
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
“That can’t be true,” I murmur more to myself than anyone else.
“It is,” Grandma says in her haughty tone. “I personally paid that seamstress a visit as soon as you disappeared and she said that you hadn’t shown up at her house for a long time.”
“But did you see Naomi?” I ask.
“No, but I didn’t have to. She was in her room.”
“No, she wasn’t. She was with me,” I tell the detectives.
“The doctor said that your facts could be hazy due to the infection you suffered.”
“I’m not making things up. She was there and fucking took care of me.”
Detective Wyatt nods with feigned understanding and I want to reach out and strangle him. I want him to go out there and search for her, find her and have them tell me where I can talk to her.
But it’s useless.
Judging from the way everyone is watching me, they definitely think I’m hallucinating.
The detective tells my grandfather that he will keep us updated about their findings, but I already know there will be none.
Those guys were professionals and fooled the police into thinking that Naomi wasn’t even abducted.
The only trace they left behind is me and my memories that automatically became faulty due to my fever.
It was all calculated.
But they don’t know me. Or my Naomi.
No matter what they do, there’s no way in fuck they can separate us.
My grandfather walks out with the police. As soon as they leave, Grandma fixes me with a glare. “Stop making us look like fools. It’s enough that you’ve gotten yourself in trouble, don’t start acting like an idiot now.”
“She was there,” I say point-blank.
“I don’t care. The only thing that matters now is that she’s gone and stopped muddying your logic. This isn’t the Sebastian I raised.”
“The Sebastian you raised is a mere image, Grandma. He was never real.”
“Even better. That’s the only Sebastian that should be shown in public. The seamstress’s daughter isn’t on your level, do you understand?”
I say nothing, because if I do, I’ll be screaming like a lunatic.
Wanting to get rid of her, I pretend to be sleepy. Soon after, she leaves, because Grandma isn’t the type who stays around and takes care of a patient. She pays people to do that.