Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 62543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
“He frightens you?” Jay asks me, and I whip my head to him.
“He bit me.” I grit my teeth after saying the words because it’s not quite true.
Jay takes three large strides toward me, closing the space between us and placing his hand over mine, still clinging to the doorway.
“Toby,” Jay says with his eyes locked on mine although he’s calling for the dog. He whistles low as the large dog rises and trots obediently to wait by his master.
I only resist slightly as Jay pulls my hand down, crouching and making me bend at the waist. I close my eyes, but continue to breathe evenly.
He won’t hurt me. Not Toby or Jay. He won’t hurt me. I repeat this over and over in my head, focusing on breathing.
The dog’s tongue laps at my hand, feeling like rough sandpaper and I slowly open my eyes.
“He likes you,” Jay says without looking at me, petting the dog and releasing my hand. “I knew he would,” he says and pats the dog’s head before standing up. The moment he does, Toby stops licking me and sits, waiting for another order.
“He won’t let you leave,” Jay says as he shoves both of his hands into his jeans pockets and stares down the hall at the door to the basement. He takes in a heavy breath and looks at me. “He’s a good boy, but he won’t let you leave.”
I nod my head once, searching Jay’s eyes for sympathy or guilt, but there’s nothing there. The dog pants for a moment, and Jay waves him off with his hand.
“You didn’t seem to mind the dogs before,” Jay says as he turns his back, leaving me in the hall to watch as Toby stretches along the dark hardwood floor in the opening to the living room. The fan is on, and the faint breeze ruffles his fur.
It’s only when I turn, pulling my eyes away from the dog that I register Jay’s words. “What dogs?” I ask him as my heart beats harder.
I take a look at him as he walks into a nearby room. He picks up something small off the dresser, and I recognize it instantly. I’m stunned as I take a step into the room and realize it’s not just any room.
This is my room.
* * *
“If you could be anywhere you’d like, where would it be?” he asks me.
I shift on the floor, my shoulder feeling numb. I pick at my broken nails and look at the floor where I’ve been picking at the ground. There’s never anything to do. Nothing but talk to Jay.
I can’t stand it when he’s gone. It’s the fear of not knowing if he’ll come back. The fear of not knowing what I’ll become if his father takes him away from me forever.
“Hey,” I hear Jay say softly, “just talk to me.”
I stare at him, bewildered. He’s different today. Softer in a lot of ways. “If you could go anywhere at all, where would it be?”
I pull my legs into my chest, feeling my back stretch as I close my eyes. “In a castle in Ireland,” I say jokingly with a smile. Deep down my heart hurts because I know what I really think. Back home with my family. But I’m not allowed to talk about that. Jay doesn’t like it when I bring them up.
“Ireland?” he asks with curiosity. I shrug my shoulders and let out a small sigh.
“There’s a picture from one of my books at home. It’s a room in a castle.” I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment as I remember it’s from a fairytale. I won’t tell him that. I’m already younger than Jay. I don’t want him to think of me like I’m a little kid although that’s exactly how he sees me.
“I thought you’d say Disneyland,” he says and laughs at me, rolling onto his back and passing the ball back and forth between his hands. It’s odd to see anything at all in the room. The ball moves from palm to palm rhythmically and I see a smile grow on the boy’s face. He looks so young, smiling as he lies on the ground, fiddling with a baseball.
It was a present, he told me, a present for being good.
I sit up on the floor, my palm brushing against the concrete that’s all too familiar. “Do you think he’ll let us go outside and play with it?” I ask him.
He stops his wrist in mid-motion, gripping the ball tightly in his right hand and almost dropping it.
“There is no outside, little bird,” he says and then looks up at me, a small smile trying to curl his lips up, but it’s so sad. I swallow the lump in my throat as he adds, “But we can pretend to be anywhere.”