Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
“But—” I open and close my mouth, finally getting my wits about me. “It’s you.” I could never have forgotten him. It was an unforgettable experience. Father never allowed us to go to town, but on that particular day, the other boys were too busy to assist in picking up an order from the hardware store, so he took Winter and me instead.
We were leaving after getting everything loaded up, and I spotted him across the way. It was his size that initially caught my attention. I’d never seen a man built like him. He was solid. Even his height is unmatched. Compared to this man, every man on the compound looks like a damn skeleton.
More than anything, it was his eyes that captured my attention. They’d stayed locked with mine. I’d felt attraction in a way I never had. Who am I kidding? I have never experienced attraction toward anyone. I’m surrounded by terrible men.
“It’s me. Now I need you to get dressed. We’re getting out of here.”
“What!” my mother hisses. “You can’t take her.”
“I told you I’d gag you if you didn’t shut up.” My mother presses her lips together tightly. “Libby.”
“I can’t go with you. I don’t know you.” It’s a stupid thing to say. I want the hell out of here, but there are still fears of people from the outside. They’re dangerous. They are all going to hell for their sinful ways. That rhetoric has been driven into us for so long. Plus, Winter. If Father is to bring her back here, I can’t leave. I would never be able to live a happy life thinking about what consequences she would be suffering for running away.
“You’re coming with me.” His tone holds no argument. When I don’t move, I see a muscle in his jaw tick. “Winter sent me.” Both my mother and I gasp. “Now move it.”
As quickly as I can, I search for a sweater to put over my dress. It goes all the way down to my ankles.
“You don’t have pants?”
“No.” I shake my head at the ridiculous question. “That’s sinful.” I hate my words the second they cross my lips. His brows pull together. “Against the rules here.”
He mutters under his breath a few curse words that I have only ever heard when other men didn’t know I was in earshot. My mother glares at him, but he clearly doesn’t care.
“Shoes, babe,” he orders again. I scurry to get them. Did he really call me babe? Isn’t that a flirty pet name shared between lovers?
When I glance over at him, I see him watching my every step. His expression has changed. I can tell he's irritated and maybe a bit pissed off. In our world, you learn to read men.
It dawns on me that he’s probably noticing my limp. He probably is annoyed that it’s taking me so long. It makes my heart drop, which is silly. I guess I had this lingering hope that he was attracted to me too. He clearly remembered me from that day.
My limp is the reason I have not been offered a marriage proposal. I’m damaged goods, as my father would say. However, he never seemed particularly upset about it. I would simply remain here, he said. Does my father forget he is the one that did this to me? I’m sure not. He’d say it was God’s will if it was thrown in his face. I hate when they said that.
I sit on my bed to put on my shoes. I can’t just balance on one foot. That would put too much pressure on my bad leg.
“Anything else you need?”
“My sister.”
“We’ve got her.” I want to ask who we is. Heck, I want to ask a million questions, but this isn’t the time. “She’s your mother?” I nod my head. “Does she stay or go?”
“Stay,” I say without a thought.
“Figured. She’s been a bitch.” My mother's mouth falls open. I cover mine so as to not laugh out loud. I have to admit that it’s nice to see her get a taste of her own damn medicine.
She wasn't averse to occasional slaps to the cheek. I don't know why, but she has always shown more disdain for me than she did for Winter. Sure, she was mean to us both, but with me, it was another level. I never understood why.
“Let’s go.” Those two words are the sweetest I’ve ever heard.
“You can’t take her.” My mother grabs my elbow as I walk by. Her fingers dig into me, making me wince.
“You don’t dictate what she can and cannot do.”
“She’s a young girl. My daughter.”
“I have a feeling you were no mother to her.” He steps closer to her. I swear I can feel his anger radiating off him. Is it on my behalf? Only Winter ever cared what happened to me. “Now let her go before I physically make you.” Not only does she release my elbow, but she steps back.