Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
This box is meant for hiding. The thought occurs to me as I lower the lid. It’s meant to hide, to stay quiet and not be seen.
My heart thumps once as the lid shuts tightly and a tiny ray of light shines through. It’s filtering in through a small slit. One that can’t be seen from the outside, but I can see it clearly.
My fingers trace the locks as they slip into place, a heavy thump from the steel rod falling causing my body to react by bucking back.
Thump, thump. My heart hammers.
It reminds me of the door being kicked in when I was hiding in the closet.
My throat closes and my eyes water as I clearly see my mother through the slit. Just like I did when I hid in the closet. The memory is vivid. It’s too real.
“Stop!” I scream and struggle against the lid. Panic consumes me. I can’t stay here, I can’t be quiet and let him murder her.
Screams rip through my throat. “Stop it!” I scream and it’s only then that I hear Carter.
His fists pound above me.
The tears that stream down my face seem to burn my skin as I fumble for the locks.
“Carter, please!” I beg him.
“Lift the locks!” he yells at me, but I can’t. I can’t see them. All I can see is him holding my mother down, stabbing her over and over. The blood was everywhere. He was too fast. I couldn’t save her.
“Please,” I beg him and feel the entire box lift from the ground only to fall hard on the floor beneath me. Jostling me and reminding me where I am.
“Open it, Aria!” he yells at me and I try to find the locks. It takes me a long moment. Each second, images of my mother pass before my eyes. The way she tried to fight him. The way she tried not to scream. I know she didn’t want me to hear or to see.
But you can only hide so much.
Finally, the locks slip back into place in my shaking hand and the mechanism opens with a loud thunk. Carter practically rips the top open. His strong arms pull me up and I’m safe in the light of the office. The images fade and I find myself huddled in his arms, feeling foolish and unable to explain what happened. My body won’t stop shaking.
I hate the box. I hate it. I hate it more than the cell.
“Shhh,” he shushes me and brings me to his chair. I think he’s going to set me down in it, but he doesn’t. He keeps holding me tight in his arms. My body shudders and I wish I could calm myself down and take it all back.
I can’t stop crying.
I haven’t had a panic attack in so long. It’s only been night terrors for years.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble the words and brush my tears away furiously. They’re hot and I can already feel my eyes becoming puffy. I can hardly breathe.
“I hate the box,” I push the words out as if I could blame it.
“It’s okay.” Carter’s answer is soothing. He doesn’t ask what happened. He doesn’t push me for anything.
He only holds me and comforts me, running his hand up and down my back. His warmth and strength and scent surround me. And I want more of it.
I would die for more of it.
A knock at the office door startles me. “Hush, songbird,” Carter whispers against my hair before calling to the door, “Come in.”
It’s Jase. It’s almost always Jase.
He stands in the doorway, gripping the knob and not letting it go. I get the sense that he doesn’t like to stay when I’m around. Like if I wasn’t here, he’d have taken a seat. A shudder runs through my body, and I bury myself deeper into Carter’s arms, wishing I could go back to just a minute ago.
“I just wanted to let you know, the dinner is set to go as planned.”
Seeing Jase, reminds me of everything once again. Like being woken from a deep sleep. Back to realizing all of this is wrong and there isn’t a piece of it that should feel right.
Back to the fact that I’m nestled in the arms of the man who’s set to destroy everything I am.
The thought of dying for more of Carter’s touch is still vibrant in my mind. And it withers like the petals of a broken flower in the scorching heat as the sane side of me remembers what I really am and who he really is.
“He’s coming?” Carter asks and there’s a deep rumble of anger hidden beneath his words. It’s enough of an edge that my body stills in his embrace.
Jase nods, his gaze moving from me to Carter. “He’s coming.”
“And are we still on for tonight?” Carter asks Jase in a tone quite different. A tone that makes me curious. Curious enough to peek at Jase.