Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 47537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Come over.
With a deep breath in I slip on my flats, once again staring at my mother’s sleeping form. Even in her rest, there’s a crease etched in the center of her forehead and her brow is pinched. Even in her sleep, she’s plagued by what’s happened. There’s no escape from it.
As I creep out of the room, all I can think is that she really did it. This is happening and I’m caught in the middle of it all.
Hesitation overwhelms me as I stand on the outdoor walkway in front of the room next door. The small peephole is a black pupil that stares back at me as the chill of the fall night air wraps itself around my shoulders.
With the back of my hand, I barely form a fist and rap: Knock, knock. Knock knock knock … I don’t have to finish. On the last knock, and with an eerie creak, the door opens. Not enough for me to go through, but enough to see the bathroom light is on inside. No other light, just the one and it barely bathes the room in the dim yellow glow.
“Hello?” I call out, my voice raspy and not at all sounding like myself. Clearing my throat, I gently push the door open wider. My heart races until I hear his voice.
“Come in. I’ve been waiting.”
Thump, thump, it all slows when I hear how calm and expectant he is. The deep baritone comes from the far left of the room. His room’s the same as mine, only mirrored. So his bed touches the wall where mine is placed. It’s only inches from where my mother sleeps.
That knowledge sends goosebumps down my back.
“Didn’t mean to keep you,” I tell him although I’m unsure where the response comes from. All of it is surreal and I find myself praying to just wake up.
“You were busy with your mother, that’s understandable.”
Thump, thump. The tips of my fingers go numb as I make my way to the chair seated in front of a simple desk. The other would be more comfortable, but it’s closer to him.
At the thought, my gaze lifts and I see more of him than I did before. For a moment, only a split second, I think he’s Cody, not Marcus.
With his dirty blond hair, just a bit too long to be Cody Walsh, and the width of his shoulders, he looks so much like him.
My head spins and I lean forward in the chair, unable to hide my reaction. Maybe I just wish Cody were here. I wish it were him sitting there.
“I look like him, don’t I?” he asks and there’s a pain present in his tone. Undoubtedly so.
“You do,” I say and a shudder runs through me at the admission.
“They used to say, never to us but to each other, the boy and I could be brothers.”
My heart pangs in my chest and I swallow thickly as I look up at him. “The boy?” I ask but Marcus only shakes his head.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. You must have so much on your mind.”
The words jumble at the back of my throat and my gaze shifts to the light from his bathroom. The door is open and I can clearly see the shower curtain pulled back. I bathed her to get rid of evidence. I’m an accomplice to murder.
My father’s murder.
My head hangs lower and I have to part my lips to take in a shaky breath.
“You don’t want to talk about it?” Marcus asks.
My hands tremble as I pull my knees up and sit so damn uncomfortably on the small chair. My back leans against the wooden slats and my shoulders rest on the barely padded back of it.
“Do you know what happened?” I whisper, although I already know the answer.
“I do,” Marcus says. He stretches his legs out on the bed, still sitting up against the headrest. He’s taller and leaner than Cody. I take it all in. Some awful, devious voice whispers in the back of my mind that I could leverage what’s known about Marcus and his crimes. I could save my mother that way.
And myself.
With a quick shake of my head and a gut-churning sickness, I cover my eyes and drown that thought.
If I tried that, I’d be dead. Although as it stands, I may be dead already. The rabbit hole Alice fell down and the ridiculous plays they made us read in school … none of it was as fucked up and unreal as this.
“Have you come up with a plan?” Marcus asks and I tell him.
I spit out the story I told my mother three times tonight and I’ll tell her again tomorrow.
Marcus’s response is merely a murmured hmm. Prolonged and drawn out, lacking in either approval or disapproval.
“Why are you here?” The venom in my tone is shocking and judging by the tilt of Marcus’s head, giving more light to the left side of his face although it’s still dark from where he lies, it shocks him as well. I hold on to the strength. I ask, “Am I collateral? Is this blackmail?”