Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Sentimental. I can’t relate to that.
My own childhood is a blur, but what I do remember is like a leviathan down beneath the surface, lurking and waiting to trap me and devour me. I’ve erected barriers and walled myself off to keep the truth of what happened to me from ever surfacing, but now I wonder if it’s coming back to haunt me, whether I like it or not.
“Marie left earlier.”
Baptist leans back in surprise. “What do you mean, she left?”
“She packed a bag and left. She’s not at her apartment. I don’t know where she went and it’s taking all my self-control not to rip the city to pieces right now searching for her.”
“Shit,” he says, sitting up straight. “I can get some people on it. Maybe Heiko grabbed her, or maybe—” He pauses, frowning as I keep staring at him. “Why aren’t you more upset?”
“I’m upset. I’m very upset.” I say the words but I don’t know if they’re true. Something is moving inside of me, something deep and dark, something hidden. It’s like a dragon slowly churning in the fiery pit of a volcano, and I don’t know if I can control it.
“What happened?” He looks nervous, glancing sideways. The old lizard behind him releases a long plume of smoke.
I stand and walk to her side. Baptist stares at me in naked shock and the woman glances up, frowning. “Can I help you, kiddo?” she croaks.
“Put out the cigarette.”
She takes a drag. “Nah.”
The bartender laughs.
I lean forward, getting in her face. I never do shit like this. I never release my emotions in public, much less take it out on old women, but I can’t help it right now. I’m spiraling too fast. “Put it out or I will stub it down on your leathery skin, you emaciated swamp creature.”
She stares back at me with her dumb mouth hanging open and nobody moves until slowly the woman puts the cigarette out. “Asshole,” she grumbles.
I turn to Baptist. I can feel the whole bar staring and I know they’re all about to riot. Yes, that old witch shouldn’t be smoking inside, but I also shouldn’t treat her like that. I’m cracking the fuck up right now.
“Outside,” I say, and Baptist stands up.
He follows me to the door. I step out into the evening air. People mill around on the sidewalk, wandering with their dogs, sitting on stoops, hurrying somewhere important. I turn to Baptist, barely able to contain my rage.
“What’s this all about, Ansell? Since when did you flip out on strangers like that?” He’s pale now, worried. The fucker knows. He fucking knows.
“You wrote the emails to Marie, didn’t you?”
The words feel like sludge leaving my mouth. Anger and pain roll through me like twin monsoons threatening to break me to pieces. Why would he do this to me, the bastard? After everything?
His mouth opens. He looks like he wants to deny it but his jaw clicks shut. His expression hardens, and that sharp look in his eye gleams into the darkness.
This is the Baptist I know. He comes off so kind and charming when really he’s a monster lurking in the darkness. There’s a reason we get along so well. I’m broken and unfeeling, and he feels too much—too many bad things and they’re all barely controlled. His lips curl in contempt as he crosses his arms.
“How’d you figure it out?”
“Marie told me. I don’t know how she found out, but if I had to guess, Bella Baby did her job and then some.”
Baptist grunts. “I was against you bringing that one on board. I knew she’d dredge something up.”
“Why?”
One word. So much importance. Baptist tilts his head, watching me.
“For so many years, we’ve refused to ask that question. You know that, right? We’ve done so much bad shit, Ansell, but we never ask why. We only accept what happened and move on. Why are you breaking the deal now?”
“This is different. Why did you follow William Crawford? Why did you email Marie those pictures?”
“I told you not to get involved with her. I said it over and over. I didn’t want you sucked into this mess. That was never my intention.”
“Why?” I snarl and step forward. My anger must surprise him, because he moves back, keeping space between us.
“I don’t owe you an explanation.” But his voice is weak. I sense his discomfort. He still thinks of me as the Ice King and I can’t blame him. For all these years, my emotions have been buried down deep.
But that’s not me anymore.
Marie woke something up. It’s been growing and growing, getting hotter and larger, and now it’s beginning to take over me, all these feelings, all these wants and needs, this sadness and anger. I’ve kept myself aloof, held at bay for so long, and now it’s like a lightning storm rages beneath my skin.