Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“Russian?” Mel asked, snapping up straight. “Are you sure?”
“They sounded Russian,” I answered, watching her closely. “Why?”
“It’s just weird. Why would some Russian guys be pissed at your dad?”
“No idea.”
“There’s my girls,” Rocky called as he came through the front door.
“Rock!” Rebel yelled back. She nodded her head, but didn’t get up from her spot on the floor as he moved toward us. She was practically vibrating with excitement, though.
“How you doin’, little Rebel?” he asked, crouching down and raising his hand so Reb would give him a high-five. Rebel smiled as she smacked his hand, but she didn’t answer him.
“Hey, Molly,” Rock said, standing up again. “How you doin’, girl?”
“I’m sore,” I said dryly. “But okay.”
“Sorry about your dad.” He moved around the couch and sat on one of the arms next to Mel. “He was a good guy.”
“Molly says the guys who did it were Russian,” Melanie told Rocky, looking at him intently.
“You know why?” Rock asked me as he set his hand on the back of Mel’s neck.
“No,” I replied, shaking my head. That hand on the back of Mel’s neck didn’t look like comfort. It looked like a warning.
“Sucks,” Rocky said. “You need anything, you let Mel and I know.”
“I just want my dad back,” I said darkly, brushing my hair away from my face. “I just want to go back to the way it was before.”
I stood up and stepped over Rebel, meeting Melanie’s eyes for a minute to make sure she’d stay with the baby. Then I walked back to Will’s room. Tears blurred my eyes as I knelt in front of the bag of clothes. I wanted my dad. I needed him to tell me that everything was going to be okay.
I was stuck in that clubhouse like a prisoner, and even though I knew they were just trying to keep me safe, the walls seemed to be closing in around me. I needed my own bed. I wanted to cook dinner and take a shower with my own toiletries, and be able to poop without wondering who was going to use the bathroom after I did. I wanted to take Rebel home. She needed her toys and her clothes. She needed to sleep in her own bed and eat at her own spot at the table. Routines were important for her, and even though she hadn’t completely freaked out yet, that didn’t mean that it wasn’t building behind her eyes.
I just wanted all of it to be over. No, that wasn’t true. I wanted to take back the last three days as if they’d never happened. I wanted to go over to my dad’s house and plop down on his couch and let him make me dinner. I wanted to watch Jeopardy and call out the answers a half second after my dad did. I wanted to scoot across the couch and under his armpit that always smelled like Old Spice deodorant.
I covered my mouth with my hand and let out a painful sob.
Why was this happening?
Nothing had prepared me for the Twilight Zone I was currently caught in.
I glanced over my shoulder, making sure the door to Will’s room was closed, and let another sob tear from my throat. Squeezing my eyes shut, I bent over the duffle bag, curling around my broken arm like I could hide it. Like I could pretend it wasn’t there.
My nose clogged and snot ran down my lip as as I let the tears pour out of my eyes. I couldn’t even be bothered to wipe it. I couldn’t do anything but try to catch my breath as I wailed quietly. It was ugly. Terrible. My face contorted, making me cry harder as my swollen lip cracked and my cheekbone throbbed.
I just needed a minute. Just a minute to myself so I could let it all out. All of the barbed wire fear and the shark infested memories. I needed to purge it.
I choked and gagged as I raised my sleeve to my face, trying to wipe the snot away. I had to leave in less than an hour. I couldn’t stay there on the floor. But every time I tried to stem my cries, my chest heaved in agony and I couldn’t stop.
“Molly?” Amy’s voice finally called as she opened the door. “Oh, sweetheart.”
I ignored her as she closed the door behind her, flipping the lock. I should have done that.
“It’s too much,” I whispered, hiccupping and coughing.
“It’s not,” Amy said, dropping to her knees beside me. “Just feels like it is.”
“I want to go home,” I blubbered. “But I’m afraid to be there. I know they weren’t looking for me, but I’m still scared they’re going to come back.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Amy said seriously.
“I miss my dad. I want my dad.” I sounded like a baby. I didn’t care.