Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
“Good one,” I say with my usual cheerful energy. “Almost got me there. I don’t know what I did to piss you off this time, considering you’re always such a joy to be around, but I think you took it too far.”
Eli’s eyes narrow the slightest bit and I think I catch a muscle clenching in his jaw.
“Mrs. King,” the impressively groomed doctor says. “Can you start by telling us what year we’re in?”
“Ava. It’s Ava. Stop calling me Mrs.…that!” I snap.
“It’s okay.” Mama strokes my shoulder. “Try to relax, hon.”
I realize my fingers are clenched in the bedsheets and my palms sting. I slowly release them and frown when I find my nails short and bare. I’ve always had a shade of pink on my nails and toenails since I was fifteen.
It’s impossible that I’ve kept them bare.
Did the hospital remove my nail polish when I was admitted? That seems trivial and quite bizarre.
“I need this entire thing to stop.” I sound more determined than I feel. “I’m not married to that prick and I sure as hell am not Mrs. anything. I’m only twenty-one, for God’s sake.”
The sudden tension in the room slaps me across the face and I freeze upon catching the note of horror in my parents' expression.
“W-what?” I sound terrified to my ears. “What’s wrong?”
Eli’s gaze that could rival Antarctica’s frozen landscapes falls on me. “You turned twenty-three a few months ago and we’ve been married for over two years, Ava.”
I realize I’m shaking my head and force myself to stop as I study my parents’ gazes. “He’s lying, right? Mama…? Papa…?”
Since I was young, I’ve known my father to be a massive figure in and outside our home. The man who could fill the horizon with his presence alone but who still treated my mum like a queen and Ari and me like his princesses.
So to see him lower his head sparks a jolt of pain in me. Because I know, I just know I’m the only note of discomfort and shame in his and Mama’s perfect family. The splash of black ink on his intricately woven life.
Ari is the normal, though mischievous, daughter. I’m the anomaly. The one they sometimes need to walk on eggshells around because I was born with a defective brain and a serious case of psychosis.
It was fine when I was living with them, when they could keep me under their watch and coax me to take the meds I hated more than my faulty brain.
But uni came along and I think they gave up. Or maybe I forced them to by keeping my distance whenever they popped the unorthodox question, “Have you been taking your meds?”
I’d say yes instead of the truth. I’d been substituting those fuckers with my favorite cocktail of alcohol and drugs.
Now, I can see that concern rising from the ashes as Mama shakes her head.
It’s not a lie.
If Eli is devious enough to stage this masquerade and even hire an entire medical crew for it, my parents would never betray me.
My gaze falls on those eyes that have haunted me my entire life.
Stormy. Icy. Mysterious.
And reality slams into me worse than my disturbing nightmares.
I’ve lost complete recollection of my life for two whole years.
And somehow, somewhat, someway, I managed to get myself in the worst trouble imaginable.
Getting married to Eli King.
This is just another nightmare I’ll eventually wake up from, right?
So it’s not a nightmare.
I lift my head from Cecily’s shoulder and stare at her face. Her hair is shorter now, all pretty and wavy. She looks more mature; her eyes sparkle differently.
Happy.
I realize that’s what she looks like. Happy.
Though something’s troubling her and I can take a wild guess that it has to do with me.
After Cecy and Ari came along, I managed to kick Eli out under the pretext that I needed girl time.
My sister’s style has also changed. She used to dress in these wannabe outfits that could rival the wardrobe of Satan’s favorite underlings, but right now, she’s wearing a cute polka-dot dress and black Prada boots.
Her bowl-cut dark hair makes her look adorable but like a gorgeous menace.
I can’t believe she’s, like, twenty now. Twenty.
The prospect that I didn’t only lose two years of my life but also of hers and everyone I care about floods my veins with unease.
As I push away from Cecy, Ari shimmies out of her boots and sits cross-legged on the hospital bed, watching me like a rookie detective from those late-night mysteries.
“You could use some skincare.”
“Thanks for the concern, little shit.”
“Anytime.” She flips her hair, but I can see the hint of pain she attempts to hide. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
She pauses and bites her lip when Cecily shakes her head.
I stare between them, feeling awfully like an outsider. An imposter in someone else’s skin. “What’s going on?”