Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
There’s no saving people who don’t want to be saved.
Had that been the case, I’d have worked my fingers to the bone in order for that to happen.
Obviously, it’s not. They can figure out the bills on their own. I put my extra money in a different bank account, so neither of them are any the wiser. And they were both too blitzed out to realize my late shifts at the diner. On the rare occurrences they were still awake, I’d climb the fire escape and sneak into my bedroom of the small two-bedroom apartment.
“Useless. You’re useless, Carsynn.” She smears my name, yet I should be the one calling her those names. Especially after the car accident we were in when I was nearly six years old. Somehow, Mom came out unscathed yet addicted to pain medicine by what I know was faking an injury and smooth-talking her doctor. Meanwhile, it was my side of the vehicle that suffered most of the impact, literally and figuratively. Mom ran a red light, we were T-boned, and I sustained a fractured wrist, broken collarbone, and a concussion. The only thing that saved me from getting hurt worse was sitting in the backseat, always my first and only choice. The further away from my parents, the better off I am.
The slamming of the front door allows me to breathe. “God, if this is you watching out for me, thank you. Also, please give me ten minutes to get out of this place without her returning.” I look up at the water-stained ceiling with a smile on my face for the first time in, well, ever. I take a deep breath, unsure why since the air in the apartment is anything but fresh. This life of turmoil ends today.
I’ve got a solid game plan, a new place to live thousands of miles away from Virginia. I’ll be in New Hampshire in less than a day and far away from parents who think I’m nothing but an ATM machine.
What I don’t expect is becoming stranded on a desolate road and a gorgeous man stopping to save me on a cold snowy night.
CARSYNN
PRESENT DAY
“Order up, Cars,” Denny shortens my name. He’s my new employer at my job here in Plaine Hills, New Hampshire. Everything is new and exciting while also scary at the same time.
I wish I could say it’s been all hearts, fairies, and unicorns thus far. Well, it’s not. It’s been shit, shit, and more shit. Let me amend that. On the way here, it was like the saying ‘When I was a kid, I walked to school uphill both ways while it was snowing.’ My phone tried to sabotage me; the cell phone provider I was hoping to use until I was an hour outside of Plaine Hills decided to take a massive dump. I had zero reception, was lost for a good hour, and I’m pretty sure I went around my ass to get to my elbow. After finally finding a small strip mall, I parked my car and locked everything I owned in my small vehicle. My stomach was full of lead, worrying about leaving everything I owned while I walked inside with my purse strapped across my chest, hand on the pocket even though it was zipped. Inside my small bag was the start of my new life: more cash than I wanted to travel alone with, breaking every cardinal rule in the book. Thankfully, the pre-paid semi-smart phone I have now works and is cheap. I don’t need a lot, no frills or thrills necessary. I’ve had more than my share of excitement to last me two lifetimes.
“Thanks.” I grab the plates from the warmer when the food comes out, not that they sit under the heat lamp very long. The morning rush had us all hustling. There wasn’t much time to pee, let alone think of anything except making sure each guest in my area had their drinks full, their food was hot, and then they were heading out the door after paying their bill. It wasn’t the relaxed feel it is now. Gone is the crowded diner, and in its place is a much more peaceful thrum. There’s no more loud clinking of silverware, no more voices carrying over one another, and finally, the television is on mute. The news is nothing short of depressing, droning on and on about the same thing over and over again. It’s not my idea of fun. It’s pure torture. As soon as the clock hit nine, I grabbed the remote to turn it off like I have been since I first landed this job.
“You got it,” Denny responds. He’s half-owner of The Sunshine Diner. His wife, Nikki, is the other half, and she runs this place like a well-oiled machine. Between Denny, Nikki, another waitress, Olive, and now myself, we’ve got it down to a science. Olive and I work the early mornings, Monday through Saturday. Sometimes, Nikki will come in to help or give one of us a day off in the middle of the week. Denny and his wife close down most days unless they ask if we want extra hours. I almost always take them if Olive doesn’t. I don’t need to make as much money as I used to, but having a nice nest egg as a cushion really helps.