Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
But Stian’s not there.
Of course he’s not. He was glad to get rid of me.
“Shut up,” I say to the voice, but I’m talking to myself.
“Look what happens when you try to ignore me,” I say out loud. “You make stupid fucking mistakes. This whole summer has been a mistake. Mistake. MISTAKE.”
A few people turn and look at me, the woman shouting at no one.
I flee down the stairs. When I get out of the train at my stop twenty minutes later, I see that Stian has called me three times, and I switch off my phone. I walk home, trying to feel strong. Trying to make a new plan for myself that means I won’t have to admit to anyone how badly I’ve been screwing up. No one knows yet, and if I’m careful I can keep it that way. Stian’s gone from my life and so is the museum work that kept me busy. I can switch straight to study mode and start prepping for the new semester. There’ll be several issues of the antiquities and archaeological journals for me to catch up on, plus the online news. My thesis topic and research questions could use a going over. I can spend the weekend in the university library studying.
“How was your last day, sweetheart?” mum asks me as I head for the stairs. She’s folding a pile of laundry on the sofa.
I smile as best I can. “It was really great. I’ll miss the work, but it was such a good way to spend the summer.”
Dad comes into the room and beams at me. “I knew you’d be just the assistant Stian needed. I checked in with him about you a few times, and he only had the best things to say.” He laughs. “Getting three words out of that man is remarkable, but he didn’t seem to want to shut up about you.”
I swallow hard on the sob that’s threatening to rise up. My smile is painfully stretched on my face. “I’m going to take a shower. It’s really hot out there.”
I see my sneakers the moment I step into my room and change my mind. What I need is a good run, and I get changed and head out. Bushy Park is just a block away, and there are miles and miles of paths that skirt ponds and copses of trees where I can get lost.
I’m a good runner. I’ve got a long, even gait and I enjoy the tight feeling in my lungs as I push against my cardio limits. I’m out of practice, so I reach that limit quickly, but I manage to keep it up as the solemn red brick walls and white statues of Hampton Court Palace rise before me, and then I turn around and run back again.
A herd of deer lift their elegant heads to watch me as I sprint by on a gravel path. The tight feeling in my chest is replaced by a sharp pain that gets more and more pronounced. I wonder if I should stop.
Ignore it. Pain is just an excuse to be lazy.
Mum gives me a look when I come back an hour later, but she doesn’t comment.
Busy, busy, busy. That’s how I need to stay. I get up at my usual early hour on Saturday morning and head into the university library. Stian has left me voicemails but I delete them without listening to them. I lose myself in reading and drawing mind-maps for my thesis research plan. At lunchtime, I lock myself in the disabled toilets and do star jumps for forty-five minutes.
When I get home from the city, I head straight for my workout gear and put it on. The pain in my chest comes back halfway through my run, and it’s worse this time. I don’t stop until black spots dance in front of my eyes, and I have to bend at the waist to prevent myself from fainting. My blood pressure must be dropping because of the lack of food.
In my mind, I hear a pleased snicker.
It’s lazy to be standing still where there are so many joggers and walkers passing by me in the park. They must think I’m pathetic, so I start running again.
When I get home, mum intercepts me at the back door. The expression on her face is grim. “Is there any reason you’ve started running again?”
I shrug. “I wasn’t very active this summer because I was at the museum so much. I’ve been feeling cooped up.” I push past her into the kitchen for a glass of water, and she follows me.
“But you look pale and drawn, sweetheart.”
I slam the fridge shut. “Mum! That’s so rude of you to comment on my appearance. I’m just trying to adjust back to my normal routine again. Can’t you leave me alone?”