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)
“That’s not my name!” I scream at her, feeling lightheaded and my lungs refusing to fill. I’m not that sick fuck.
I refuse to believe it. I grip my hair in my hands and try to get the memory out. That never happened to me. I feel sorry for Jay. I can’t separate the two.
I close my eyes, trying to figure out what’s wrong with me. My head throbs and I can’t get these visions to go away. It’s because he’s told me his past so many times. I close my eyes trying to remember when he told me, but in my memory, he’s there, sitting on the chair, leaning against the wall, but then nothing. He’s vanished.
“John,” Robin says with her hands up. “You need help, John, and it's okay. You’re okay, I promise you.” She sounds scared and she takes in quick breaths as she speaks, walking toward me slowly.
Like I’m a wounded animal.
Calm for her. I hear Jay’s voice and it only makes me angrier. She shouldn’t fucking be here.
My vision blurs and for a moment it goes black, but I hold on to the counter. I’m lost right now. I can barely grasp what’s real and what’s not.
“It’s fine,” I tell her out of instinct. Because that’s what you do when someone’s worried for you. You lie to them.
“It’s not, John,” she says and shakes her head and her small hands wrap around my arm. “You suppressed memories for a reason.” Her voice quavers and I wrap my arms around her instantly, hating that she’s breaking down. She cries harder and tries to push me away, but I don’t let her. I rock her back and forth.
She’s so innocent in all of this.
“Just forgive me, please?” she asks me with tears in her eyes.
“For what?” I ask her, not understanding why she’s so upset. She hasn’t done anything wrong. I’m the one that’s so fucked up. I’m the one who hurt her. The one who fucking kidnapped her.
My head spins at the thought. It’s all me. Anger boils, but she speaks and I try to calm myself.
“For leaving you behind,” she whispers her choked words.
My blood turns to ice as the memories come back again. They keep coming over and over. I try to shut them out but they make a pulsing pain shoot from the back of my head to the front where it stays and throbs, where it punishes me until I acknowledge the past. Until I face what I’ve done and what I’ve been through. “It had to happen,” I tell her in an even voice, but the anger is there. I can feel it. I hated her for leaving me when I only existed for her. “I was selfish,” I whisper as my hands start to shake with the mix of heated emotions.
A small sob leaves her as she shakes her head. “No, you were only a boy,” she replies and tries to say something else but I can’t hear her over the cries. She wipes her eyes and her shoulders shake.
“It’s not your fault, little bird.” The words slip out so easily. As if it’s natural to call her that. I’m surprised by the presence I feel. As if I’m here holding her. For a moment, my vision splits. I can see me holding her, I can even feel my arm leaning against the wall. It’s Jay who's holding her, Jay who recognizes her pain.
But I refuse to do it. I shut my eyes tight and hold her even tighter. I kiss her hair and a chill runs through my body, followed by a heat that boils my blood.
I may be aware that I am him and vice versa, but that doesn’t mean that both sides of me are willing to merge.
“Go to sleep,” I tell her in a deep voice. I look her in the eyes as I order her, “Go to your room, Robin.”
“Now!” I yell and watch as she obeys me, looking at me with equal amounts of fear and defiance. I lick my lips, not knowing what to do. Everything’s changed.
Chapter 28
John
“You’re not taking this well, are you?” I look up at the sound of Jay’s voice. He’s standing against the doorframe to the kitchen, staring at me. A phone is in his hand. His phone. I look down at my own hand, and it’s there. He tosses it back and forth in his hands, grinning at me and taunting me.
The decision is obvious. I need to call and turn myself in, but I can’t fucking bring myself to do it.
I grip the phone tightly before shoving it away from me, but when I look up it’s still there, still in his hands.
“You’re not real,” I tell him, refusing to rise and go touch him. Have I ever felt him? I can’t remember a time I have. I’m crazy. Legitimately insane.