Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64835 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64835 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
I find a bottle of vodka and unscrew the lid, sitting on the couch and drinking it down. The liquid burns, but I keep pushing, until my mind is numb and my body is warm. Then, I reach for the remote and turn on the television, needing something to distract myself, something to take away from the pathetic feelings swirling around inside me. I settle on Texas chainsaw massacre, finding the movie pathetically entertaining.
I watch as people are brutally murdered on the screen, and yet I can’t do anything but laugh hysterically as they so pathetically try to escape.
“Run, idiot,” I yell, waving my bottle of vodka around as yet another person is taken down by that chainsaw. “God, surely you’re not that stupid.”
A wicked laugh escapes my throat, and I shake my head in frustration and amusement as the alcohol briefly takes away the feelings of pain I’m harboring inside.
“You’re dark and twisted, little girl, but your laugh is like sunshine.”
Confused, and sure I’m hearing things, I turn and see Jagger standing at the entrance, staring at me. He has a bottle of whiskey in his hand, and he’s drunk, so damned drunk. I guess he just went and did the same thing I chose to do. It’s the first time he’s not looking at me with that hard expression, the one he refuses to let me see past. Instead, his eyes are soft and glassy, his body is relaxed, and the bottle hangs effortlessly from his fingertips.
“I am not dark and twisted,” I mutter, turning and facing the television once more.
“I could hear you laughing as soon as I came into the house. I assumed you would be watching a comedy, not a story about a mass murderer.”
“Well, I happen to find it entertaining.”
He walks in closer, bringing the bottle of whisky to his lips and staring at me. “Dark and twisted.”
“Whatever you say,” I mumble, bringing the vodka to my lips.
“Didn’t know you drank,” he mutters.
“Well, after today, it was the only thing I could think of doing. I see you had the same thought.”
He nods, sitting down beside me on the couch, leaning back, placing the bottle in his lap.
“What, you’re going to act like we’re friends now?” I huff, shuffling away from him.
“What do you think, Willow, if we met under different circumstances, do you think we’d get along?” he asks, randomly, his voice slightly slurred.
He’s as drunk as I am.
He wouldn’t be here having this conversation if he wasn’t.
“I suppose,” I shrug.
“Why?”
I look at him. “Dark and twisted.”
He grunts and the smallest grin appears on his face, making my heart do a stupid little flip flop. “That’s a first for me, getting along with someone because we’re both dark and twisted.”
“Well, you’re here with all your dark and twisted friends, I don’t think it’s that far-fetched.”
“Hmmm,” he murmurs, leaning back and closing his eyes.
“Why did you fuck me, Jagger?” I ask, boldly, staring at him.
He doesn’t move, he doesn’t open his eyes, he just lies there, head back, breathing deeply. “Because I needed you.”
His words hit me right in the chest, and I stare at him, for so long my fingers begin to tremble around my bottle of vodka.
“That makes you so much darker than me,” I whisper.
He opens his eyes and tips his head to the side. “Except you needed it as much as I did, so again, we’re the same.”
I hold his gaze, something inside me stirring.
A feeling I know I should fight.
Keep locked down.
But it’s so damned hard when he’s sitting there, looking at me the way he is right now, his eyes soft for the first time ever.
“Maybe we are,” I murmur.
“Yeah.” He closes his eyes again. “Maybe.”
With that, he’s asleep.
With that, I’m even more confused than ever.
8
“Please, Mommy, don’t hurt me,” I cry, struggling to keep my head above water.
“You’re not safe anymore. If Mommy goes away, you won’t be safe. We have to do this.”
“Mommy, please,” I cry.
“We will go together, just me and you, Willow. Forever.”
Water swarms my mouth as she pushes my head under the water. My tiny feet kick, and I squirm desperately. I can’t breathe; I’m not strong enough to escape her. I cry out for my daddy, but he doesn’t hear me. I’m trapped and, soon, darkness takes over.
I bolt upright screaming and gasping for air. I grip my throat, wheezing and choking. I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe. I roll off the couch and fall to my knees on the floor. I pound my fist into my chest, but I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. Jagger is beside me in minutes. I didn’t even realize I had fallen asleep on the couch with him.
“Willow,” he barks, groggily. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t breathe,” I gasp, slamming my hands into my chest again, eyes clenched shut.