Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 134133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
After all, don't most people feel a sense of denial when someone they like does something truly horrible? They don't want to believe it when they hear about it, and I didn't, either, after experiencing it firsthand.
I had the same initial impulse that all our friends had after it happened when they decided to believe him and vilify me.
The difference is, I wouldn't have done that to them.
I like to think if a male friend of mine started cagily generating the story that a female friend of ours had been totally into it when they were hooking up, but then she changed her story later, I would at least talk to her instead of automatically believing him.
After all, only one of us had a possible motive there. Only one of us needed to get out of trouble, and it sure wasn't me.
I hadn't done anything wrong.
It took me some time to accept that, but I finally got there.
It freed me of some of the burden I carried, freed me from him completely.
Sure, I still have symptoms.
I still can't stand to be touched, and my sense of trust in men is all but gone. The ability to feel safe with them is utterly obliterated...
I frown, thinking back to earlier this evening when, ironically, I felt safe with Silvan's strong arms wrapped around me.
He had just kissed me, and I hadn't wanted him to, but when I panicked, he didn't get turned off and leave because of my strange reaction. He pulled me into his chest and held me. He calmed me down and reassured me, and even if it was just so he could lure me into his own trap...
It worked.
Granted, I've never let a man try to calm me down when I've felt panicked since everything with Dylan. Since then, if my fears get triggered, I flee the scene and avoid the situation going forward.
Silvan didn't let me.
He made me stay through the swell of panic, and sure, I may have been lulled into a false sense of safety thinking him responding to my panic with comfort meant he wouldn't push me any further, but even if the safety was a lie, I felt it. It's the first time I've felt safe in a man's arms... well, ever.
That's a jolting realization.
Even though I know it's a little crazy because I'm definitely alone in this room, I say softly as if he can hear me, "I felt safe with you when you held me. I've never felt that before. It was nice."
I'd never tell him that, anyway, but I feel a little lighter saying it out loud in my own company.
Knowing I felt safe with him even when I wasn't opens up possibilities I had quietly given up on.
Maybe someday, when I meet the right man, I'll be able to feel safe with him.
Chapter seven
Sophie
Dark dreams keep me firmly in their clutches all night long. After a fitful night's sleep, I wake up with a massive headache and eyes that feel achy behind the lids from lack of proper rest.
Rather than stay in bed like I'm tempted to, I get right up.
I know if I linger in bed, memories of last night will catch up to me.
Mom's in the kitchen with a cup of coffee. "Good morning, sleepyhead."
Her words cause me to frown mildly. I was in such a hurry to get out here, I didn't grab my phone when I left my room, so I can't check it for the time. My gaze flickers to the small black microwave on the counter. It reads 10:13.
That can't be right. I left the party early, so I didn't get to bed super late. I shouldn't be so exhausted if I got that much sleep.
Retrieving a mug from the cupboard, I pour myself a cup of coffee. I'm not a fan of the taste, so I leave plenty of room for the flavored creamer to top it off and make it more palatable.
"Did you have fun at the Halloween party last night?"
My stomach bottoms out at her conversational question.
The headache seems to intensify, so I grab a second cup to get myself a glass of water. I swallow a couple ibuprofen and gulp down the water hoping at least it'll cut through the headache.
Mom's an early riser, so she's always early to bed, too.
"Not really," I murmur without offering any details.
I know she'll likely ask, though.
"No? Did you mingle and try to talk to the other kids?"
Sighing, I stir my coffee to mix in the creamer. "I don't want to talk about the party, Mom."
"I just want to know if you gave it an honest try to have a good time, or if you went with the mindset you'd hate it and hid in some corner the whole time. If you don't give things a chance, then you'll end up missing out on a lot of experiences, honey. You can't be so close-minded."