Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
I’m not her mother.
I’m not even her guardian.
Even if that hurts to say.
I have looked after her for way too long. I cut the strings with her when she reached twenty-one, when she showed me she wasn’t planning to do anything but drugs and party for as long as she could.
I won’t be an enabler.
I can’t because my mother enabled my alcoholic father, and in the end, it’s what killed them both.
I will not be the same.
“How long has it been since you’ve seen her, Mandy?”
Mandy, who’s clearly forgotten I’m standing at her front door, looks up and smiles. “Ummm…” She scratches her head, and I can see the nicotine marks all over her fingers. “About two weeks or so.”
“It’s been ten days, to be precise.” That dark, menacing voice comes from behind me, and my heart takes a leap in my chest. My hands, which were by my side, reach up to grab the door frame.
“Mandy, do you know this man?”
Mandy, who’s way too busy getting high, doesn’t even look up, nor does she care by the looks of her.
“No, she doesn’t,” he answers for her. “I’d prefer to keep it that way. How about you take a walk with me, Theadora, since you’re clearly dressed for one.”
Removing my hands from the door frame, I manage to turn around to face him. It’s slow and awkward, but I need to turn around to make sure he’s real.
My eyes stay downcast as his shoes come into focus—black boots. His jeans are rolled up at the bottom—they are ripped and hugging his legs. And as my eyes move farther up, he’s wearing a long, white T-shirt.
“Are you working up the nerve to look me in the eye, Theadora?” he teases.
“Yes,” I answer truthfully, my eyes sitting at his neckline.
He doesn’t move closer, simply reaches his hand up and goes to touch me. I freeze on the spot as he caresses my cheek ever so softly, and pushes up so I have to look at him. When my eyes meet his, his hand drops, and he wipes his fingers on his jeans, as if touching me was somehow dirty. I don’t have any makeup on, so I’m not sure why he felt the need to do that.
“How about we take a walk?” He turns then and starts down the stairs.
Contemplating if I should follow, I wait, just watching him. Looking back over at Mandy, she’s now lying on the floor, face toward the ceiling with her eyes closed.
“Theadora.” My name comes impatiently from his lips.
“Do you have her? Answer me, and I will follow. Do you have Lucy with you?” I yell. I can’t see him anymore, so it means he’s already down the first flight of stairs.
“Yes, I have her. You know this.”
Something inside of me deflates as I close my eyes. I put one foot in front of the other and walk to the stairs. Touching the railing, I feel its cold metal between my fingertips and look down. He’s there, standing halfway down the next flight of stairs, looking up, watching me with his hands at his sides, his mouth in a straight line, and those eyes locked onto me. Does he know what emotion is?
Stepping down the stairs quickly, I come up behind him, stopping until he starts to move again. I can smell him. The scent is of smoked wood and the ocean, and I think, How is that even possible?
When we reach the bottom, he holds the door open for me, letting me walk out first. The sun hits my face as it starts to set. Turning back to look at him, he’s watching me, eyeing me up and down, which makes me feel like I shouldn’t have left the house in what I’m wearing in the first place.
“You dress like this normally?”
Ignoring his words, because he does not need an answer as to how I dress, I walk past him until I am on the side of the road to head back toward my place. I pause, thinking if that’s a smart idea, then realize he has been there before. He knows where I live, and probably a whole lot more than he’s letting me believe.
“You’re wondering if you should go toward your house, but then you realized I know exactly where you live.”
My head flicks back to him, fast.
“Am I wrong? I am hardly ever wrong.” His mouth moves, but there’s hardly any real movement. There’s no emotion; everything he says is dry and lifeless. He steps in front of me until he reaches a car that is similar to the one my boss owns. I know it’s expensive because when she purchased it, the first thing she did was bring it out and show it off. Then she told us the price tag; it was more than what I could make in years of working.