Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I keep walking and eventually do see lights of houses in the far-off distance. It’s too dark for me to make them out exactly, but there are signs of other life. As I’m walking, my wet feet are getting cold, and I think the tide is coming in because the water keeps lapping up and getting my ankles and even my knees wet at times.
The sound of the waves, the stars up above, all make for a beautiful setting, but my current predicament is anything but. My brother, Dylan, is right in asking how our mother could do this to me. I should be angrier than I am, but all my life I’ve given the woman a pass simply because she’s my mother. I never hold her accountable for her poor mothering skills. I never yell at her. I never demand. I never write her off when I really should. I’ve been the mother in our dynamic ever since I could walk and talk. Even as a child, my reasoning skills far surpassed hers.
I should be angry. I should be furious. I’m here because of her! My life is in danger because I was helping her. And yet… I know I’d do it again because it’s my mother. It’s who she is and who I am. It’s a sick relationship that can’t be broken.
It’s a toxic bond.
I don’t know how long I’ve been walking, scanning, taking mental notes on how I can or can’t escape, but the buildings are getting closer and the lights brighter. I’ve been gone for longer than I had planned and consider turning back before I’m discovered missing, but then I hear the rumbling sound of a boat engine driving up beside me.
A deep voice comes from the shadows. “What in the hell are you doing?”
Chapter Fifteen
Lyriope
Nick emerges from the darkness, driving the speedboat, anger painting his face.
My heart manages to start again but skips a beat as I try to think of an explanation for being out of the mansion.
When no brilliant idea comes to mind, I say, “I-I uh… I wanted to go for a walk on the beach.”
He looks at the mansion in the distance and then back at me. Turning off the boat, he asks, “How did you get out of the house?”
I consider lying and telling him I walked out the front door, but I don’t want to get Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum in trouble based off my lie.
“I climbed out my window,” I confess. “I needed some fresh air to… process.”
He looks over his shoulder, back at me, and then over his shoulder once more. “Are you crazy? You could have broken your neck!”
“Well, I didn’t,” I say. “And if I had, you only have yourself to blame. I just wanted to walk outside and knew you wouldn’t allow—”
“So you knew not to leave my house. You knew I wouldn’t allow it.”
Oh shit. Time to backpedal. “Look, it’s not like I was trying to escape or run away. I just wanted to think and not feel like the white walls were closing in on me.”
“You’ve got one minute to get your ass in this boat,” Nick commands.
The demand attacks every ounce of feminism and woman power I have in me. Those were fighting words. I glance toward the lights in the distance and wonder if I have a chance to make a run for it. Although the man in the speedboat next to me pretty much answers that fleeting thought.
“You can’t tell me what to do. I may be your damn captive, but you can’t treat me like a fucking child. You said that you wouldn’t treat me like a prisoner. You said you’d treat me like a queen. But I can’t even go for a walk?”
“You’ve got ten seconds,” he warns, beginning to count backward from ten.
I stand my ground, glaring at him, ignoring his countdown even though my heart skips with each count. “You don’t scare me. Count all you want. I’m not moving.”
“Five, four, three, two, one. Time’s up.”
He hops out of the boat, splashing thigh high in the ocean’s water. He starts for me with large strides. Seeing him coming, the moonlight clearly reflecting the look of absolute determination on his face, I do the only thing any sane person would do… I run.
I haven’t made it ten feet before I scream, my body flying over Nick’s shoulder. While I gasp for breath, the man isn’t even breathing hard with the effort.
“Put me down!” I shout, my squirming, kicking, and punching in an attempt to free myself doing nothing but having him tighten his grip. “Okay, fine. You win. I’ll get in the boat. Just put me down.”
“I’m afraid that’s no longer an option,” Nick says, swatting my ass so hard I yelp loudly.
Water is splashing all around us and drenching my face as he marches us toward the waiting boat. I stop struggling when I’m rewarded with another hard slap to my ass, the yoga pants doing very little to protect me in this humiliating act.