Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
I know what I have to do.
I pick up all of the wrappers from the floor before starting the gas fire in the sitting room, tossing them all into the flames. Gathering the littered tests, I throw them all into the Givenchy box and slam it closed, sliding it back into the closet.
“I know what to do.”
I’VE LOOKED DOWN THE BARREL of fear many times in my life, and all of them began with a wrist bound by the luxury of Rolex. Except for that time. The time I don’t talk about. He was my nemesis, but also my best friend. The man I hated with all of my heart, but loved with every ghosting of my soul. Unlucky for me, my soul is bigger than my heart.
He had scared me to death, chased me through forests, intimidated me enough to think I wouldn’t be able to move without him knowing, and yet…
I loved him.
I loved him so much that if you tear open any part of me, I would surely bleed the blood of Bishop Vincent Hayes. He was the kind of toxicity I craved. I needed. He was my drug, but now… now that all changed.
Because the last barrel I looked down wasn’t from him. No. It was the cold metal of a revolver and it for sure—was supposed to take my life.
“Flight ANZ787 is ready for boarding. Please make your way to terminal three.”
I knew I was making a big mistake. Possibly the biggest. This was going to come back and shit on my life in months to come, but for now, I knew I needed to do what I had to in order to make sure this baby was safe. I had to think of it now. Regardless whether it was Bishop’s or—I pause, swallowing past the lump in my throat—his. This baby was mine, and I would protect it at all costs.
Thirteen hours later and my plane was descending. The child in the back had finally stopped crying, and the man who was beside me still hadn’t woken. I wondered in the back of my mind if he was still alive, but pushed my tray up and clicked it back into place, preparing for our descent. I spent the first four hours of the flight searching through movies. Ones that didn’t remind me of Bishop, or of Nate, to no avail. The problem isn’t falling in love, it’s the memories you make while doing the falling that will bounce off the pavement and stab you in the heart. How do you get rid of them? They’re cemented into your mind forever, with nowhere else to go. Maybe Jesse will know a witch who can help me erase my memories of the past couple years. Make me forget them. But the pain of never knowing them hurts more than the pain of the memories.
Ain’t that a fucking bitch.
Well done, Madison. Well done.
I jolt in my chair as the tires screech against the tarmac. My ears ring, clogged with ear bubbles, as I shuffle up in my chair, accidentally bumping the dead dude beside me.
He jumps, his eyes popping open behind his wide glasses. “Oh, we’re here?”
“Yup.” I unfasten my seat belt, glad to see I didn’t just spend thirteen hours with a dead corpse beside me.
Every second that passes, I have memories flashing through my mind. Of my family, Tillie, Tate. No one will understand why I’ve done what I’ve done, but for now, I need this. I need to be safe, away from him until I figure out what to do next. No one will understand me.
Moving out of the aisle with nothing but my carry-on, I finally step foot out of the airplane and down the long corridor of the terminal in the airport. Once I’ve passed through customs, I find myself where all of the family members are waiting on the other side of a barrier. I know this place. It’s not the first time I’ve touched down in Auckland, New Zealand, but it will be the first time that I’m alone in doing it and with no one on the other side waiting for me. I step past the happy reunited families and busy businessmen, making my way to the first mobile phone shop I can find. A bright red store that reads Vodafone over the top catches my eye and I rush in, heading straight for the cashier.
“Hi, how can I help you?” she asks, smiling at me.
New Zealanders have something about them that makes you feel safe. I can’t explain it. Or maybe that’s my bond with Jesse.
“Hey, can I buy an iPhone here?”
“Sure!” She begins typing on the keyboard of her computer. “We don’t have any of the elevens in stock yet, but I can give you an X?”
“That’ll be fine.” I smile at her, looking over my shoulder every two seconds.