Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Please do,” she murmurs, her eyes looking out the window.
I watch as Bishop flies out the door, slamming it in his retreat.
“Madison…” I try.
“Don’t.” She shakes her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I don’t deserve him, and there’s so much.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I give her thigh one more squeeze and then climb out the door. The limo pulls away and I start thinking that Nate went with her, but then I hear his footsteps behind me.
They’re heavy.
Angered.
I know our fight isn’t over.
He whistles out. “Tillie!”
I don’t answer, half because I’m mad at him but mainly because I’m not a fucking dog and what is with him and whistling to girls. Instead, my feet pick up their pace, the only problem with this is that my heart speeds up with it. I want to run. Not Madison run, I mean workout run. Or just run for my life run because fear ripples up my spine when I hear his footsteps thud against the pavement behind me, and suddenly, I’m flying forward, dropping my clutch to the ground and bypassing the front door, whipping to the side of the house. I drop my shoes when I pass the gardens, tears rippling down my face.
His footsteps are getting closer, heavier, but I zip forward like a bolt of lightning and head straight for the opening in the forest. Blades of damp grass whip my ankles as my hair falls from its high ponytail, flying out in the wind. The tears won’t stop. Why am I crying?
Why is my mind a maze of scribble? Why am I broken? Why does he hate me so much? So many fucking questions. That’s why I’m crying. I dash down the dirt path, my toes sinking into the mud. Just as I reach the entry to the Vitiosis cemetery, I stop running, wiping the stray tears from my cheeks. The high wired gates reaching for the sky in gothic spikes distract me for a second too long, because something hard crashes into my back and I’m falling forward, my hands flying out as I land face first into the dirt. Nate’s hard chest is pressed against my back as he inches up slightly to flip me around, spreading my legs wide with his. He rests his weight on me, his hand slamming over my mouth.
“You’re going to shut the fuck up and listen to the words that I’m about to say…”
I do as I’m told, because Nate angry is scary as shit and my self-preservation isn’t on drugs.
He searches my eyes, his almost black. His lips part as he sucks in air. “You want to know why I hate you?”
I didn’t want to know now.
He squeezes my cheeks which make my lips pop out. “I’ve already told you this, but I’m going to repeat myself one more time. You fucking remind me of her!”
I freeze.
Oh no. No, I don’t want to do this. Not right now and not after everything that has already happened tonight, please, I don’t want to do this. I squeeze my eyes shut.
“You gave me the most beautiful little fucking girl in the world, and I broke her, Tillie. My world touched her and now? Now I’m always reminded of that because of your existence.”
Tears stream down my face, my throat swelling from pain. Pure, undiluted pain ripples through my blood and soars through my eardrums.
He carries on. “I’m battling an internal war with myself every second of every fucking day. I hate you. I hate your smell because I remember what it smells like mixed with her innocent scent. I hate your fucking voice because I remember how you used it on her, and how it would soften every time you would say ‘Micaela’—”
Fire burns in my chest at the mention of her name. I don’t want to listen to this.
“You’re going to hear me, Tillie, because you think that my hate for you, that my feelings toward you are as shallow as Bishop had for Madison. You know me. I don’t fuck like that. You should have known that there was more to me being like this. But you fucking didn’t. You thought I hated you because fuck knows why, because you think it gets my dick hard like it did Bishop. You’re wrong. It’s far fucking deeper than that.”
He exhales, his hand coming away from my mouth and resting on my throat.
“I never wanted to fucking hurt you. Never. But every fucking day. Every fucking day I’m reminded. I’m haunted by her through you. Yeah, that may not be your fault, but it’s how I’m dealing with it.” His lip curls. His eyes drop to my mouth, his thumb pressing over my bottom lip. “How you used to kiss her goodnight every fucking night with these lips.” Then his eyes turn ablaze, coming straight to mine. “Or how about the fact that you had more time with her than I did. I was fucking robbed.”