Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
I chuckle, the first real smile to touch my mouth since losing her. “Yeah, but you’re amazing. Nate is very lucky to have you.”
She swipes her cheeks. “Please come to me if you ever need to talk about Micaela.”
My blood turns cold, my jaw turning to cement. “Thanks.” I stand abruptly, making my way to the front door. My heart is pounding against my rib cage and when I step outside and slam the door closed, I slide down until my ass drops to the cold tiles on the porch. Micaela. It’s the first time I have heard her name be said aloud since losing her. I’ve even refused to say her name in my head because it is just too painful. That one word can dismember me in the blink of an eye.
The tears start again as I’m reminded, yet again, how much I have lost. Time stands still when you’re numb. You lose track of it, of meaning. Like why do flowers bloom if they’re just going to wither? That space between that first blossom and that first wilt is meaningless. It all reaches the same fate. Like me. Like human life.
I push from the ground, swiping the tears from my cheeks and unlock the Mercedes. Climbing in, I tug my phone out of my back pocket and call Brantley. He picks up after the sixth ring. Sixth.
“Principessa…”
I ignore that annoying pet name. Think I’ll take Madison’s “kitty” over princess any day of the week. “That cabin…”
Brantley silences. “Yes…”
“Where is it?” I ask candidly, flooring it out of the house of doom. I can’t stay here for much longer. I know that. Everything reminds me of Micaela, it hurts too much.
“Off the I-5—why?”
I hang up, knowing I can find it myself if I really search my thoughts deep enough.
It takes me a little over two hours, but eventually, I’m pulling into that same driveway that we all went down before I got chased into the forest. The building where the fights were doesn’t look nearly as intimidating as it did that night. That night that feels so long ago.
Tragic.
I cut the gas, putting the keys in my pocket. The time catches my eye as I look around the place. Just past four p.m. That gives me enough time to gather what I need. I swing the duffel bag over my shoulder and trek into the forest. The wind whisks through my hair, setting goosebumps over my flesh. It seems darker in here, where the trees keep you secluded and caved away from the sun. Ten minutes later, I’m separating a large shrub of brush and I’m face-to-face with that same cabin again. I begin walking toward it, the same withered boards holding it together by the rattling metal roof. I open the door, finding it exactly how it was the last time I was here. Only thing missing is the fireflies in the fireplace. I walk inside, ignoring the heebie-jeebies that have worked themselves inside of me. Taking a seat on the rocking chair, I swing back and forth, the tight squeak of the old wood rocking against the floorboards the only sound filling the room. I flick open the pages.
The number. I run my finger over it, the curve of every angle. I’d say it’s identical to my trailer when I was growing up, but why? Why would it be my trailer. This is the cabin from two drawings, but the one that perks my interest the most is the drain cover that says Perdita on it. I flick through to another page that I haven’t seen yet, and it’s a sketch of the gates of Perdita. The ones that lead into the township. The soft gray smudges are flicked high, the edges as sharp as the gates in real life. I flip the page to the next chapter, and it’s a dungeon. I notice a small signature on the bottom. It’s a scribble, and I have to squint my eyes just to make out the words. Perdita. I stand from the old lounge chair, pushing the book back into my duffel bag.
I know where I need to go, but I need someone to take me there.
I know what I need to do to make that happen.
I floor it onto the highway and dial Madison’s number through the Bluetooth. She picks up.
“Hey, I was about to call you…”
“Where are you? There’s something I need to show you.”
Pause. “At Bishop’s.”
“Okay, I’ll be there soon.”
I hang up and make the trip into the city, my nerves wracking around inside of me. It’s a good distraction from the pain.
My eyes flick to the rearview mirror and I notice a dark SUV following. It’s been on my tail since I got on the highway. I chew on my lip, trying to figure out what to do. I see a shoulder coming up ahead and pull in, the tires skidding against the asphalt.