Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
My mind, on the other hand ... not so much.
“Come,” he orders.
Carefully, I kick my shoes off and walk toward him.
The moment I reach him, he puts his hands on my shoulders, and even though I want to, I don’t flinch. Instead, I glance up at him, my breath stuck in my throat as I wait for what it is he’s about to deliver. Leaning down, he captures my mouth with his. Too stunned to speak, I stand there as he coaxes my lips apart with his tongue. It has been so long since he’s kissed me, so long since I’ve felt a tender touch, that my body betrays me.
I melt into him.
Not because I want to, but because I’m so desperate for any kind of comfort.
People will never truly understand the shame that comes with wanting your abuser to love you, even just for a moment.
I kiss him back, for a second letting my mind go back to us just being husband and wife in love.
Pulling away, his eyes search my face.
Of course, I should know that with the delivery of kindness will come cruelty.
“It’s time for us to have a baby.”
With that, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing there, the air trapped in my lungs, my feet unable to move.
There it is, the bombshell, the hurricane that has been brewing. A man like him doesn’t do things for kindness, they do them for a reason. They make sure that no matter what, their control remains. His words crumple up every bit of security in my body and throw it in the trash, along with every good thing I have left.
The one thing I never wanted with a man like him, is a child.
This day has been one I’ve been terrified about for the longest time.
Now, it’s here.
And I don’t know how I’m supposed to make it stop.
4
“Alexis, I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t call if I had any other options, but we don’t know how to calm her down.”
Bonnie’s frantic voice travels across the other end of the phone just as I sit down to eat. Placing my fork down, I lean forward, concern filling my voice when I ask her what’s going on. It’s a Friday night just past nine. I didn’t know who was contacting me, I rarely get calls, but the moment I heard Bonnie’s voice, I knew something must be wrong.
“We got news today that her mother is getting locked up for a long time. She’s losing it. I’ve never seen a child like this. She was crying and screaming, then she ran off into the woods and won’t come out. She’s scared, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
Oh, Hope.
Pushing to my feet, I glance over at the bedroom where my husband is asleep. Generally, once he’s gone to bed, he doesn’t wake until morning, but leaving is still a risk. Still, I can’t leave Hope alone, scared and feeling like she has nobody she can turn to. “I’m coming,” I tell Bonnie, rushing over to take my keys before slipping out of the house.
The drive over is quick.
Arriving at the club, I can see that they’re having a party. There are people everywhere and a large fire in the middle of the lot lights up the sky as people sit around it, some dancing, some smoking, all of them drinking. Parking my car, I get out and hesitantly walk toward the entrance. I’m not sure if I’m meant to be here or at Myla’s house next door, but I don’t think on it too long.
“You must be the teacher.”
A rumbling voice has my head whipping around to see a man that everyone knows. Western Aiken. His name was the talk of the town for so long, his face all over our screens and in the papers. Up close, though, he is far more daunting than I ever would have expected. He’s big, taller than I thought, and all the tattoos and scars make him seem that much scarier. His hair is pulled up in a bun atop his head, and the sides are shaven, making him look like some sort of Viking. Oh, boy, he’s something entirely.
“Ah, yeah,” I answer. “You’re Western.”
He nods. “Let’s go.”
He turns without another word and walks through the crowd of people. Nobody stops him—they don’t even try—as if the way he walks with such purpose is enough to tell them he’s on a mission. I follow along, desperately trying to keep up with him, his large strides difficult to follow without getting into a jog. We approach the back fence, and I see flashlights shining around as the faint sounds of people calling Hope’s name can be heard.
Poor Hope.
“Bonnie,” Western barks, and a moment later, Bonnie appears out of the woods, sweat coating her forehead, her face concerned.