Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 180510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 903(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 602(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 180510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 903(@200wpm)___ 722(@250wpm)___ 602(@300wpm)
I’m ready, completely anticipating a rebuttal.
Nothing.
She lifts onto her toes and pulls me toward her, giving me a slow kiss. Despite the air of melancholy around us, I kiss her, wrapping my future in my arms. Fuck the fine print or what she thought I was thinking earlier. I am not losing her again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Don’t interrupt. Just listen. And don’t judge. She’ll be wearing a very thin gown, and you’ll see everything beneath it. I’ll change into a gown as well, just be cool. And if by some chance she asks you to wear one, take off all your clothes and just do it. No questions asked,” I say to Colten before we get out of the rental car parked in a spot out front of Athelinda’s.
“I feel blindsided and a little pre-violated. You had two weeks and a four-hour flight to tell me this, but I’m just now being told?”
When I don’t respond to his humor, he reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “Josie, I feel like aliens landed, and I didn’t believe in them, but now they’re here and there’s no denying it. I’m trying to figure out how to adjust my thoughts to include aliens.”
I nod several times while opening the door. “You should have let me die. Living with aliens sucks.” Before he can open his mouth, I get out of the car and take long strides toward the door.
“Josie—”
I hold up my hand to stop him from saying another word while I wait for Athelinda to buzz us in.
“Peace to you, beautiful friends. Please, take everything off and slip on a gown. We have much work to do.” Athelinda presses her palms together at her chest and takes a small bow.
“This is Colten. He’s my—”
“Yes, of course, my dear Josephine. No time for formalities. Clothes off.”
After removing my socks and shoes, I head over to the wall with the gowns on hooks, unbuttoning my blouse on the way.
Jeans.
Bra.
Panties.
After I slip on the gown, I turn. Colten offers me a look that I can’t decipher.
His face softens. “Josie,” he whispers. He’s still bothered by our last discussion.
“Put on a gown,” I say.
He glances over his shoulder at Athelinda perched on her pillow, yellowish eyes on us. When he returns his attention to me, I give him one look. No words. Not even a blink.
Keeping his gaze on me, he shrugs off his shirt. He pauses for a few seconds before tugging the button to his jeans. When those have been removed, he partakes in another short stare off before glancing back at Athelinda again. She watches him with a straight face as well.
On a long inhale, he removes his briefs and stands straight with every ounce of confidence in his body.
I hand him a gown and brush past him toward Athelinda. When I sit on a pillow, she leans toward me and presses her cold hands to my face.
“You’re exhausted.” She frowns.
I swallow hard because she sees me, really sees me, and it has nothing to do with my threadbare gown.
Colten takes a seat on the pillow between us as we sit at 12:00, 3:00, and 6:00. He pulls his legs into a crisscross and folds his hands over his junk.
“What do you see?” she asks me.
“I poisoned them. They foamed at the mouth.”
Athelinda nods, pressing her dry lips together. She’s okay with me referring to him as I.
I feel Colten’s gaze on me. I didn’t tell him that part. “I want to know how to get rid of the memories. I don’t need to solve anything else. I don’t need to recollect the moment I killed them or how they resisted when I tried to abduct them. I don’t want to know if I did depraved things to them. I just want to forget everything before it gets worse. Or before I …”
Colten stiffens. He’s focused on a marriage; I’m focused on not taking my own life every time I see or hear something in my head. Cake samples would be so much easier.
“I’m afraid you will have to live with this,” she says.
“Well, I wasn’t living with it before the shooting.”
She nods. “Perhaps you’ll get some form of dementia as you age.”
“Dementia? That’s my best hope? What about a brain injury?” I’m being sarcastic.
Athelinda lifts a bony shoulder into a small shrug. “That could do it too.”
“Jesus …” Colten scrubs his hands over his face.
“How do I make things right?”
“That’s a discovery you’ll encounter on your life’s journey. I can’t say because no two are ever the same.”
“And what am I supposed to do when I’m at a low point? When Colten’s watching me stroke his daughter’s hair, and I know what he’s thinking—”
“I wasn’t thinking anything,” he says.
I ignore him, keeping my expectant gaze on Athelinda.
“You think WWJD.”
“What if I don’t believe in Jesus?”