Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 170885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Just suppress it for a few more weeks.
This exhibition will boost Mum to immeasurable stardom and then she won’t need Grace anymore. That’s when I can tell my parents and Nikolai. That’s when I can finally do right by him and my fifteen-year-old self.
“What do you want?” I ask with a sigh, my calm voice unrecognizable.
She smiles and I nearly gag on the smell of her perfume. “Oh, Bran. Are you seriously going to turn down this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity because of some little misunderstanding in the past?”
“Misunderstanding?” I grit my teeth, all my demons rushing out at once, and I feel my control smashing into pieces. “Did you just call it a misunderstanding? You fucking assaulted me, Grace.”
“I did no such thing. You clearly agreed to it. You kissed me back and led me on. So don’t stand there and claim assault.”
“I told you no!”
“Shh.” She scans her surroundings. “What’s with that tone? Why are you hissing and acting like that delinquent boy toy you brought along? You’re much more elegant and sophisticated and should consider your company. That Nikolai is not good for you—”
One moment she’s standing there, and the next, I’m jamming my palm against her face, banging her head against the wall with a thud. She stares at me through my fingers with wide eyes, and for the first time, I see fear.
She’s scared of me. Good.
“Don’t you fucking dare say his name with your rotten mouth. You don’t mention him. You don’t talk to him, and if you see him, you walk the other fucking way or, so help me God, I will kill you. Am I clear?”
She nods once, her face turning red.
The urge to crush her skull between my fingers burns bright in my pounding head, but I release her. Because how can I be with Nikolai if I’m locked up for murder?
She straightens and stares at me as if I’ve grown a few heads, then backs away from me, probably sensing the murderous energy oozing off me.
I lean against the wall after she’s gone, but I still can’t expel the fucking migraine pulsing through me. Maybe I shouldn’t have come home.
No.
I breathe in.
I wouldn’t exchange the past week I’ve spent with Nikolai for the world. Holding hands, being in public, introducing him to my family, and being showered with their acceptance. It’s been the happiest week of my life.
Until now, that is.
It’s going to be okay.
I’ve survived years. I can handle a few more weeks.
I plaster a smile on my face as I push open my studio’s door. “Sorry I’m late, baby. I was held up—”
My words get stuck when I hear the sound I’ll never forget, not after one night, one year, or eight of them.
“Mmmmno… Mmmm… Mmmm…”
Ink explodes from the back of my throat and I choke on it like I did that night beneath the shower. It floods my eyes, nose, and ears. It swallows my whole body until I can only see Nikolai through a black haze.
His eyes are glued to the screen of his phone as that noise echoes on and on, cracking my ears open like a sledgehammer.
I don’t know how I walk to him when I can’t feel my legs.
I don’t know how I breathe when I’m wheezing.
Blood drips from his hand as he grips the bottom of a broken glass. On and on, his blood seeps into the black lake that’s swallowing me whole.
I don’t think he hears me. He definitely does not see me, because his beautiful eyes are now as empty as mine.
I went ahead and ruined him just like I ruined fifteen-year-old me.
It’s all because of me.
I am the fucking problem.
Nikolai finally lifts his head, and when he looks at me, for the first time since I met him, I don’t see my reflection in his eyes.
That’s what happens when he sees me. That’s what will happen when everyone else sees me.
This is why I hid. This is why I didn’t even want to come out.
I knew it was only a matter of time before every other fucked-up admission followed.
I was naive to think I had time.
But I don’t.
I never did.
“You…you saw…you saw…” My voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater as my vision blurs with moisture.
“You saw…”
And now you can’t look at me anymore.
“Bran—” His words are cut off when I snatch the piece of glass from his hand and jam it against my neck.
Everything happens in a haze, but all of a sudden.
I don’t know how I end up on the floor, drowning in my own blood and the black ink.
There’s so much ink now, choking me, pulling me to its bottomless depths. My strangled breaths come in short, chopped bursts.
Then in the middle of it, strong hands wrap around me and my head is balanced on a solid surface as moisture drips on my face.