Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
I’ve had sex before, many times, well enough to know that there’s nothing too special about it. When it happens, he comes, sometimes I get to come as well, then it’s lights out. But it is clear to me now that I’ve been living quite pathetically, missing out on something this amazing.
Rather than counting down the days towards my freedom from him, I will likely be begging him to keep me around longer. Turning onto my side, I force myself to close my eyes and stop reliving the last hour of my life.
My dreams are haunted. In it my mother is still alive and we are all having dinner in a dark candle lit cave. Ivan comes to serve us food and my father stabs him with a fork. I scream and wake up with a start.
Rubbing my eyes, I look around the room, which is now brightly lit by sunlight filtering in through the window. Again, the impression of extreme cleanliness fills me. Everything looks brand new with not a mark or stain anywhere.
I head toward the bathroom. It’s time for that much-needed shower. The rain shower is pure heaven and afterwards, I slide into the fluffy white bathrobe. As I head towards the walk-in wardrobe my phone starts ringing. It must be my dad going out of his mind with worry.
I run to my bag to retrieve my phone and, of course, it’s Dad.
“Lara?” he calls and his voice sounds panicked. “You’re not at work. Where are you? Tell me where you are. Tell me where you are. Do I need to call the police? What—”
“Dad,” I try to interrupt, but he keeps going, his voice completely broken, and I’m sure his heart is too.
“Dad!” I call out again, louder and sterner this time. I realize that I actually sound angry. I’ve never, in all my years of being his daughter, raised my voice at him, so he immediately goes silent.
“Dad, I... I’m fine. I was just... I was tired. I went to bed late and woke up late. I’ll come in to work a bit later.”
He immediately starts apologizing. “Oh! I’m sorry. I’m incredibly sorry,” he says, his voice filled with guilt. “I just couldn’t reach you, and I couldn’t sleep, and last night just seemed—”
“I know,” I say, nodding even though he can’t see me. “I know. It doesn’t seem real, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t,” he replies, his voice heavy with worry.
“Dad.” I soften my tone as I move toward the seat overlooking the city. The view is quite literally breathtaking. Far below people are hurrying somewhere. Always hurrying. Trying to squeeze out a buck from a merciless machine. Only yesterday I was one of them. From up here they look like ants. Tiny and helpless.
“Lara?” my dad calls once again, pulling me back to my senses.
“I’m here, Dad, I just got distracted.”
“Where are you?” he asks. “I need you to tell me where you are because I want to come and get you. I don’t want you to do this for me. I’d rather rot in hell than allow him to lay a finger on you. I’ll never forgive myself if you’re subjected to this. I’d rather die.”
“You’re not coming to get me, Dad!” I cry.
“Well, in that case, come to the office right now, or I’m going to call the police, give them his name, and have him arrested. Do you understand me? I’m not joking, not for even a single second.”
“Dad!”
“That’s final,” he says.
Panic sets in because he’s about to hang up, and knowing him, he won’t respond again until the ten minutes are up.
“Dad—”
“No, I don’t want to hear it,” he interrupts again. And when I really want to say what’s in my heart, I have no choice but to yell.
“I want to be here,” I shout.
It feels like I’ve dropped a bomb. Neither of us can believe I just said that. I certainly can’t believe it, and I can’t ignore how I feel about it either.
“What... what did you say?” my dad asks, and I’m certain now that he’s trying to make me repeat those dreadful words. I refuse.
“Just...” I sigh. “Dad, I know you feel bad, and I know you want to fix this, even if it kills you, but I’m telling you I’d rather it not. I’m not doing anything that will harm me. I told you that... I told you that I know him. We’re close. This is strange, and he’s being aggressive about it, but it’s more of a friendly spat than anything else. It’ll be resolved, and if he’s really willing to spend this much to help us get through our problems, then I don’t understand why you want to stand in the way and create an unnecessary fight.”
He listens to me for a long while but doesn’t say a word, and with every minute that passes, my worry deepens. “Dad,” I call out again, trying to fill the silence.