Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
And why, of all the guards my father employs, would he not choose the one who lives to piss me off every single day of my life.
“Not him,” I mutter with a soft sigh.
Sure, he’s been a little nicer this past summer, but it’s only because he felt sorry for me once he discovered everything I had been through. Not because we’ve ever gotten along. He might as well be a robot for all the personality and feelings he shows.
“You don’t have to go.” My chest aches when she bites her lip and her eyes well up with tears. I could be bitchy and call it pregnancy hormones and pretend she doesn’t really care about me, but that wouldn’t be true. I’ve been low enough recently that I told myself that more than once. She doesn’t care. They don’t care. They have each other now, and a new baby on the way. There’s no room for my trauma and drama and bullshit. But I’d be lying if I ever tried to force myself to believe that.
“I do, and we both know it, so please don’t try and talk me out of it. There's nothing here for me anymore.” All my answer does is give her more pain, and I'm sorry for that. She doesn't deserve it. She's only ever been my friend, my best friend. Now, she's my stepmother. She's pregnant with my sibling—no, I haven't been able to wrap my head around that yet, but I’m happy for her, and my father.
Still, underneath everything, she's Bianca. I don't want to hurt her. That's why it's better for me to go because if I stay, I might end up doing just that. It wouldn't even be her fault. I'm too fucked up right now to be the person I used to be, which would only make her life harder.
“Once everything is settled, you’ll come home. Right?”
“We'll see. Maybe, maybe not.” It's the only answer I can give her because I don't want to give her false hope. I doubt there will ever be a time when we don't have to worry about Dad’s enemies hurting us. If it's not Jack Moroni kidnapping us and murdering my mother, or Jefferson Knight blaming me for his asshole son’s disappearance, it will be somebody else. Do I want to come back to that? Or should I start a new life of my own and put the past behind me?
I take a step back and let my gaze linger over the sprawling house one more time. Yesterday, it was the site of a small, intimate wedding ceremony, but that's the only recent happy memory I have here. Before that, I'd have to go back months and months to find a time when I wasn't scared. Hiding. Empty, so empty. This house has been my refuge and my prison combined. I can feel tears at the back of my eyes but blink them away. I’ve cried so much over the last couple of months, and for what? Those tears have done nothing to soothe the ache.
The truth is I can't spend the rest of my life hiding behind these walls, hoping things will get better. I need to get away, to start fresh—though how I’ll manage to do that with Romero gatekeeping my every move, I don't know. I'll figure it out. I have to, especially since the only alternative is slowly dying.
Dad steps away from Romero, and when he opens his arms to me, I step into his embrace again. “Listen to him.”
He can't see the way I roll my eyes. “I'll try.”
“Don't make me regret letting you go. It's bad enough that I won’t be there if you need me.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior.” I pull back, smirking up at him. “Come on. If I promised without giving you any shit, you would know I was lying.”
“That's true.” He takes my face in his hands and stares down at me, concern etched into every line on his face. I don't think he’s slept yet, and not because it was his wedding night. The dark circles under his eyes and the stubble on his cheeks add five to ten years to his age. I hate worrying about him, except what can I do? I need to get away from this place, and while I know he is definitely worried about his only daughter going somewhere even though he won’t be able to visit, this is what I need.
“Don't forget you can come back whenever you want,” he whispers before pressing his lips to my forehead. “We'll be waiting for you.”
A sudden rush of emotion tries to choke me, but I push it back like I have for months and force a smile. “Take care of your wife and that baby. I'll be fine.”
“I will.” He looks over the top of my head, his expression hardening, and I know he's looking at Romero. I can't think of a time I felt sorry for him, but this could be the first. If things go wrong somehow, I wouldn't want to be in his shoes.