Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 136915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
He left the room.
Greta is different.
I didn’t move. I knew I was different. I didn’t like being around people that weren’t my family. Too many people made me anxious. I never minded being different. But now I wondered if I’d hurt Aurora by being the way I was.
She got up and came over to the wardrobe, opening it. She peered down at me with a hesitant smile.
“Thank you.”
She nodded. “You can stay in my room for as long as you want. I can try to smuggle some of my lunch up later.”
I shook my head. “I’m not hungry, but I’d like to stay here.”
“Do you want to shower and put on some of my clothes?”
I glanced down at my bloody leotard, tutu, tights and ballet shoes. “No.”
For some reason, I didn’t want to get rid of the blood yet. It felt as if I’d be disregarding the man’s suffering by doing so.
“Oh, okay. But I’m sure some of my clothes would fit you, even if they aren’t your style.”
I frowned. Not my style? I didn’t have a style. I liked comfortable clothes and Aurora often wore overalls, which were the epitome of comfort. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know how to explain my reasoning to Aurora. I knew her clothes would have fit me. Even though she was three years younger, we were almost the same height and I was too thin, a constant worry of Mom.
“I just want to sit here,” I said eventually.
Aurora swallowed and nodded. “Oh, sure. I’ll close the door then and keep playing with my dolls.”
Hiding in Aurora’s room had the advantage of having a bathroom if I needed to go to the toilet. It had been thirty-eight hours since I’d run off and Aurora respected my wish not to interact. Despite her offer to sleep in her bed with her, I preferred to stay in the wardrobe or lie under her bed and stare at the slat frame. I knew I must have been smelling awfully because of the dried blood by now but she never complained.
I hadn’t slept or eaten in more than two days and was starting to feel the effects. My eyes burned as if I had sand in them and my stomach ached badly. Aurora had left for lunch 75 minutes ago. She’d probably bring me food again. Food I couldn’t touch. Not because it wasn’t vegan, but because the mere idea of eating after what I’d seen seemed impossible.
The door opened but I remained where I was in case it wasn’t Aurora.
“I really don’t have time to play dolls right now,” Nevio muttered as he followed Aurora into the room.
I froze under the bed where I’d been lying for two hours.
“I’m sorry, but I had to get him. He was going mad from worry about you,” Aurora said, sounding absolutely miserable.
“What?” Nevio said then fell silent. “Fuck.”
He moved toward the bed and fell to his knees then peered under the bed. His face filled with relief and a flicker of guilt overcame me. Worrying my brother always made me feel bad. He reached for me but I tensed and backed away. His expression transformed with realization and pain, which felt like a stab in my heart. He lowered his arm and stretched out on his back on the floor, his face tilted toward me.
“Give us a moment, Rory, and make sure no one interrupts us.”
Aurora left without hesitation, closing the door almost inaudibly.
Nevio put his outstretched arm, palm upward between us. An invitation, one I didn’t accept.
I looked at Nevio, at the dark eyes that were mine too, only the look in them was different. Where my face was soft, Nevio’s was harsh. Where I was thin and short, he was tall and already muscled from fight training and parkour.
Where I despised violence, Nevio needed it.
“We’ve been looking for you nonstop. Everyone’s worried, Greta. We thought something might have happened to you.”
Something had happened, something I couldn’t explain quite yet. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. The furry sensation on my tongue reminded me that I hadn’t brushed my teeth in too long. My pulse picked up thinking about what this would do to my teeth.
“Greta?”
I simply stared back at my brother. Meeting other people’s eyes cost effort, not with him.
“Are you scared of me now?” he asked in a strangled tone. Tears filled my eyes. Deep down I had always known what Nevio was. I had felt it. But I hadn’t quite understood the enormity of it, how pitch-black Nevio’s longing really was. What I’d seen him and Dad and Nino do, had opened my eyes to a brutal truth I had trouble handling.
“Greta,” Nevio said, shifting a bit closer. I glanced at his palm with the crisscrossing scars. Pain meant little to Nevio. He liked pain, feeling it, causing it.