Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
My mouth slams shut. I wrap my arms over my chest, trying to ward off the chill I feel inside.
“Just what I thought.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “I don’t know shit about you, Carrie. And I don’t ask shit about you. So, don’t fucking come in here, into my house, demanding to know where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing when you’re not willing to give up anything on yourself. We don’t talk about the big stuff. That’s how this thing works between you and me.” He gestures a finger between us.
I take another step back, ready to turn and walk out of here.
Then, I change my mind.
And move forward a step.
“You’re right. I’m asking you to tell me things about yourself that you’ve probably never told anyone. And, all the while, you don’t know a single thing about me. Not one thing. And it’s stupid. Because we should know each other. I want to know you because I care about you, River. So, here it is. This is me, laid bare.” I spread my hands out.
“I was married for seven years. I’m still married. And my husband—the police detective—” I see River’s eyes flash with an emotion that I know links back to his stepdad. “Yep, that’s right; I’m married to a cop. Who I can never divorce because I can’t risk him finding out where I am; if he does, he will kill me. Without a doubt. Because behind the good cop facade he wears for the rest of the world is a sick, violent sadist, who, for almost every day of the seven years I was with him, beat and raped me to the point of unconsciousness.” I swallow against the memories prickling at my skin.
“And, when I found out I was pregnant, I ran. I stole his dirty cop money. Got a new identity. Changed the color of my hair. Climbed onto that bus that brought me here and became Carrie Ford. So, that’s why I won’t be around violence, River. Because I lived it. And I risked my life to escape it. Because I will give my child a better life than the life I had, no matter the cost to me. I won’t be around violence again in any way, shape, or form. I will not have my child’s life tainted by it.
“So, you see, this is why I’m asking you where you were tonight and where the blood came from. And I will ask again one last time …” I pull in a fortifying breath. “Where were you tonight, River?”
I wait.
Heart in my throat. Chest pounding. Blood roaring in my ears.
But his answer never comes.
So, I do the only thing I can.
I walk out of there, and I don’t look back.
Carrie
I don’t sit around, feeling sorry for myself. That’s not who I am anymore.
When I left my miserable life behind, I made the conscious decision not to be unhappy ever again. I had already spent enough years of my life being sad.
So, I chose to be optimistic. To be happy.
I wouldn’t ever be truly sad ever again. Not even when the bad memories creep into my dreams at night and turn them into nightmares would I feel sorrow. I just shut them into a box and lock it up tight.
Because those memories are not my life anymore.
I’m no longer Annie.
I’m Carrie.
And Carrie is happy. She is strong and brave. She is everything I ever wanted to be.
But, right now, I don’t feel any of those things.
And I’m most definitely not happy.
I told River everything. I trusted him with my deepest, darkest secrets, and he said nothing.
Nothing.
So, yeah, my heart hurts.
And, since I walked out of his house over an hour ago, I’ve done nothing but lie on my sofa—on my side, of course, because, if I lay on my back, I’d probably never get up again—and eat chocolate-covered pretzels while listening to sad music. Even Buddy couldn’t take my self-pity party and trotted off into my bedroom.
Lord Huron’s “The Night We Met” just finished up, and Kesha’s “Praying” has started up when I hear the rap on the door.
It’s a quiet knock but loud enough for me to hear.
I know it’s River. Because no one else would be knocking on my door after one in the morning.
But I’m not answering the door. And I’m definitely not letting him in.
I put another chocolate pretzel in my mouth and chew slowly.
“Red, it’s me.” His deep voice comes through the door.
“I know. That’s why I’m not answering the door,” I call back.
“Carrie … I just … I need to talk to you. You’re safe with me. I promise. I would never hurt you. But, if you don’t feel safe with me, which I totally understand, then text Sadie and tell her that I’m here.”