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)
I pull the blanket tighter around me and toss the paperback novel onto my nightstand. I tried reading the first page at least four times. My eyes would travel along the lines, but not a word would register. I just can’t focus. I can’t relax.
I flick the switch to the lamp, turning it off and rub my tired eyes. I can’t sleep either, but that’s nothing new. My back cracks as I lie back down and try to stretch out my neck. It’s sore and so are my shoulders, so I fluff the pillow and put my head back down only to be agitated by how hot the pillow is.
I’m just not comfortable. Not physically, not emotionally. And I don’t think I should be. I deserve this.
I turn onto my side and then back onto my stomach, hugging the pillow close to me. I thought tonight I’d be haunted by the last session I had with Marie. I thought it would be her eyes I’d see that kept me from slipping into a much-needed sleep and letting the exhaustion take over. Instead, it’s his eyes.
Red-rimmed and brimming with tears. They fall down his face and he doesn’t acknowledge them, he just stares at me, whispering that he’s sorry. He hadn’t told me he was sorry other than the first day. But weeks later, my strong protector stared at me and it was all he could say. My chest tightens, and I remember how the fear weighed against me. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
* * *
I try not to cry. He already feels guilty, but he shouldn’t. His father uses me to make the boy do things he doesn’t want to. It’s not fair to him. What’s worse is that I want him to protect me. How selfish I am. I’m sickened by it, but the fear of his father keeps me quiet as the days pass.
As I swallow the spiked lump in my throat, twisting my fingers around each other and ignoring the emotions rushing through my blood, my eyes dart to the boy’s arm. The bruises are already dark, and there’s a large scratch on his forearm. The blood is so bright. Such a vivid color. I’ll never forget.
“I’m sorry,” he says and his voice cracks and this time he wipes the tears away with the back of his hand as he sniffles. I’ve never seen him like this. I shake my head with my eyes closed, ignoring how my heart squeezes and my body goes cold. His father is going to come for me. He’s going to put me in the cage instead of the boy.
My mother isn’t coming. No one is. It’s been weeks. I knew the day would come when I would have to leave this room. I always thought it would happen after the boy was taken. Every time I’m alone in here, I’m scared his father will come back and he won’t be able to protect me anymore.
But he let the boy come back to me with the threat that when he returns, he’ll be taking me for his test.
I can’t help but let the tears fall as I wrap my arms around my chest and try to keep the sobs from ripping from my throat. I can’t blame the boy. He’s kept me safe for so long. But he didn’t listen. He wouldn’t obey his father, and now the monster is going to come for me.
“It’s okay,” I say weakly, although the way my voice croaks, I don’t even know if he can understand me.
He grips my shoulders with both of his hands. It’s a bruising force that snaps me out of the fear of what’s to come and captures my full attention. He’s so close to me, so intense as he stares into my eyes. I don’t think he’s ever touched me before. Not like this, not since the first day when he shielded me. He doesn’t like it when I touch him either. Especially when he has bruises.
He shakes his head, his eyes staying on mine. “React quickly,” he tells me, and his face scrunches and he holds back his own emotions, breathing deeply before looking back at me with remorse. “He stops it if you show how scared you are.”
His eyes pierce mine and I can’t help but nod my head, although I’m not sure what he’s talking about. He’s never told me what happens when he leaves. He’s not the same when he comes back and he likes to be alone, so I give him that space. “Don’t try to be brave and hide it. He’ll only make it worse.”
I stare at him, but I don’t answer. I can’t do this. I need to be strong and not make this harder for him, but I’m terrified.
“Robin!” the boy screams my name, demanding an answer and my obedience, but before I can say anything, the heavy metal door swings open.