Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
It was of the ocean.
A violent, turbulent ocean with huge waves. I could make out what looked like a small figure drawn into the base of one of the waves. Was it… was it a person, struggling to keep their head above water?
No, it couldn’t be. It was probably just how the artist had shaded the water.
I’m sorry, Aiden.
My nightmare, which I’d worked so hard all morning to forget, came back with a vengeance. My eyes fell to the words written just below the drawing.
Ocean tears slide down my face,
Instead of my own
Which are long gone-
Dried up by the sheer number of times
I’ve taken this dive.
The truth:
It isn’t a dive.
It never was.
It is a push, a shove.
A scrambling for purchase.
A betrayal.
Over and over again,
Into the cold bitter depths
I plunge.
How I forget-
I go to the shore in the sunshine.
Happy, easy, free.
Having forgotten the truth.
That when my toes reach the edge -
Clouds will hover.
Harsh wind will sting.
He will bite.
Black depths.
The fear returns-
Reminding me.
The haunting words rattled me to the core and before I even realized what I was doing, I turned the page and read another entry. My throat closed up as I read about pain and fear that was all too familiar. The world around me ceased to exist as I lost myself in that page, and then the next.
“Morning, Mr. Vale.”
I glanced up at the sound of the cashier’s perky voice and realized I’d made it to the front of the line without even noticing. “Morning, Jenny,” I said with a nod. I pulled my wallet from my pocket and grabbed some cash. Having the journal in my hand made it awkward, and I was reminded that I needed to turn it over to the smiling young woman so it could be returned to the rightful owner. But even as I handed the cash over, I couldn’t make myself give her the journal too.
I didn’t know why.
Except I did… and I wasn’t proud of the reason.
“Have a nice day,” Jenny preened as she handed me my drink and change. I dropped the change into the tip jar and tried to force myself one last time to hand the journal over. But then my eyes fell on the initials on the cover again.
And I stepped away from the counter.
I just needed a little more time with the thing. I’d return it tomorrow, and the owner would never know I’d read it. So where was the harm?
I wanted to snort at the spin I’d put on the whole thing. I basically lied for a living, so it was pretty pathetic that I’d decided to take work home with me and start lying to myself.
But that didn’t stop me from leaving the coffee shop, journal in hand.
One more day.
I just needed one more day to feel that connection with the anonymous soul who’d somehow been able to say the things I’d never had the courage to admit… not even to myself.
Chapter 1
Aiden
“Damn,” I muttered to myself the second I opened the door the following day and saw the line of people shifting impatiently on their feet as they waited to get their morning caffeine fix. I’d had high hopes that the fact that I was running thirty minutes late this morning wouldn’t have any impact on my morning stop at Beam Me Up Latte, but I should have known better. As crazy as living in Manhattan was, there was a certain precision to it too. Rush hour in the city was like a carefully choreographed dance, and if your timing was off even just the littlest bit, you were basically screwed. I really needed to get over my fascination with the small Star Trek themed coffee shop and just settle on one of the chain stores closer to my office.
Even as I told myself that, I stepped into line like a good little soldier and felt the cold air biting the back of my neck as I propped open the door behind me. The woman in front of me scowled over her shoulder at me, but I ignored her since I wasn’t about to wait on the other side of the door in the freezing cold just to mollify her. Luckily, it took less than a minute before the line moved enough that I could let the door snick closed behind me, and I only had to suffer through the blasts of bitter late-February air for a few seconds whenever a customer left the shop.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and punched out a quick text to my brother letting him know I’d be late. Predictably, I received a response a few short seconds later that included a gif that showed the Death Star and said I like my coffee like my Death Star— on the dark side and powerful enough to destroy a planet.