Total pages in book: 238
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 231781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1159(@200wpm)___ 927(@250wpm)___ 773(@300wpm)
They closed the doors, some guy in dark blue pants and a light blue shirt sitting with her in the back.
I pounded the doors, but he barely spared a glance before turning back to her.
I whipped around, facing Martin. “What happened?”
I had my eyes on her nearly all night. I came home earlier for a few minutes just to see if she needed anything and she was fine!
“Her oxygen levels dropped.” He descended a couple of steps, his hands in the pockets of his coat. “I called the ambulance when I came home for a meal break. Get inside.”
“No, we need to follow her.”
“She won’t wake up tonight,” he told me, “and she’s in good hands. We’ll go in the morning before school.”
The engine revved behind me, and I twisted around as the driver shifted into gear.
No.
“She’s fine, Emmy.”
I didn’t like his tone. Why was he so calm?
“Thank you, Janice,” he called out to the driver as she turned off her lights and waved to us. “Tell Ben thank you.”
They drove off, and I started after them.
“Move another muscle,” he warned, “and she’s never coming back.”
I stopped, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“Get inside now,” he ordered.
I stood there, hearing his footsteps and the front door swing open, and I shook my head, wanting to run after her, but he’d find me.
I closed my eyes, the weariness of all the years and the past several days weighing heavy, because Will showing me how happy I could be if things were a little different made all this so much harder to bear.
I was tired.
I almost swayed on my feet. I was so tired.
A curtain slowly fell between my eyes and my brain as I went through the same rage, anger, hurt, pain, sadness, and despair I’d felt a thousand times before.
But now I understood something I never did.
Nothing made sense.
Martin, my home, the terror… It just was, and sometimes you were just that person whom things happened to.
I walked into the house and closed the door, not tensing or clenching or bracing, because it didn’t help.
“That was for last night,” he said as I entered the kitchen and watched him take off his jacket. “Just a warning.”
I blinked once, staring at him. “You did that to her.”
It wasn’t a question. I knew the answer.
His hand curled around the chair back, and his knuckles turned white as he squeezed.
“She’s the only control you have over me,” I told him. “If she dies, there’s nothing keeping me here.”
“And without me, she’d be in hospice or some state home, neglected and in agony.”
We stood on opposite sides of the table, locked in the challenge. What did he want?
Was this really all he had? He acted like he hated me, but would he suddenly be happy if I were no longer here?
Was he going to try to stop me when it was time for me to leave?
“You ran away from me yesterday,” he said. “You were seen at Homecoming, and you were seen at the Cove last night.” He steeled his spine, lifting his chin and tightening his lips. “And I know you know what happened to that crypt.”
So, he got rid of Grandma for the night to show me how much noise he could make without her here.
My jaw ached, I pressed my teeth together so hard. People pushing me. People pulling me. People, people, fucking people….
I told him to deal with me. I said I was to blame.
I told them all to leave me alone and stop pushing me and pulling me, over and over again. No one listens.
Blood rushed to my face, something crawling under my skin with its claws. I rubbed my eyes.
“Take it out on me,” I gritted out. “Leave her alone.”
“But that’s how I take it out on you,” he replied, a smile playing behind his eyes, laughing at me. “And mark my words, there is still so much more I can do.”
I let out a scream, seeing red and too furious to care as the tears filled my eyes. Grabbing the edge of the kitchen table, I shoved it across the floor, the tools in my bag clanking as the table pinned him to the counter.
He growled as I crushed his legs, and I reached into the bag, snatching out a hammer as he threw the table on its side, all the tools in the bag crashing to the floor.
“You stupid little bitch!” he yelled.
I raised the hammer, but he launched out and grabbed my wrist, punching me across the face with the other hand as the tool spilled out of my grasp.
Fire spread across my cheek, but I whipped back around and shot up my knee right between his legs, not wasting a second.
Stop.
Just stop.
He buckled, and I shoved both hands into his chest, sending him flying to the floor. Tears blurred my vision, and I spun around, running from the house.