Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 98(@200wpm)___ 79(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
All the plans I had in my head about how things would have gone—how I wanted to show his work to the gallery owners I know, how I wanted to carry his baby, be his wife and the mother of his child.
All those plans are gone now.
“And he hasn’t even come looking for me,” I say to the cracks in the ceiling.
But why would he? It’s not like he wants me anyway. He’s clearly quite happy with Miss Naked back at the lake, whatever her name is. Who even knows how many other girls he’s got besides her? I wouldn’t be surprised at this point if he had worked this little game of his on countless girls like me. He just uses them up while they’re on vacation and then discards them when he’s done, all the while cheating on whoever that girl was back there.
Why did I have to fall in love with a heartless prick?
I deserve this to be honest. I deserve this for allowing my toxic family to treat me like I don’t matter for my entire life and then falling in love with the first man to ever treat me right. Of course he turns around and tosses me aside like I don’t matter, just like everyone else in the world has treated me. Why wouldn’t he?
I rushed into something I wasn’t ready for because I believed Christian was the answer to all my problems. I felt badly that night I wasn’t able to go see him because my mom was watching me, but I bet he didn’t even care. I bet he was cuddling with Miss Naked—or worse even. He was probably thrilled when he saw I wasn’t coming and sent her a text telling her to come by.
He must be laughing that I’m gone.
Or he’s not even thinking about me. He’s probably moved on by now, to whatever new girl from whatever family has moved into the house my family was renting.
I sit up in bed and take a deep breath. It’s nearly midday, and I haven’t even moved, not even to eat. But nothing’s going to get better just lying here feeling sorry for myself, so I swing my legs to the floor, slip into a pair of sweatpants and a comfy gray cardigan, and head downstairs.
It’s one of those lukewarm, cloudy days, which is kind of appropriate for how I’m feeling. I think I’d resent it if it was bright and sunny out, to be honest. The B&B is near the end of a road at the base of a pretty big hill that the owner said was a great hike. When I first got here, I dismissed the idea entirely, but that actually sounds pretty good today.
Thankfully, the slope isn’t too steep and the ground not too treacherous. I manage to make it up to a clearing overlooking the neighborhood in just under a half hour. Looking down, I realize just how alone I truly am.
Maybe I’m being dramatic, having only been away for a week, but that’s a week longer than I’ve ever been away from my family before, and as toxic as they may be, I now have no one to rely on but myself. And that’s a frightening thought.
“Damn it, Christian,” I say to no one in particular. “Why couldn’t you have just been a good guy?”
I pick up an oddly shaped stone lying at my feet and hurl it off the bluff. It arcs away above the trees, then moments later, there’s the echoing sound of it landing somewhere down below.
On the way back down the hill, my mind is racing with thoughts about my future. How I will support myself, where I will go, what I’ll do if my parents ever find me and want to contact me again. So many possibilities.
Am I scared? I don’t know.
It would make sense to be, and I’m not trying to pretend I’m not when I am; I just don’t know yet. I guess I’m so caught up in the whiplash of the moment and the heartbreak of losing Christian that I can’t fully process everything yet.
When I get back to my room, I immediately collapse face-first down on the bed. Not because I’m physically tired, but because I’m just completely worn out from thinking.
Too much thinking.
“I just wish I could turn my brain off,” I mutter into the pillow.
“Sometimes I feel like that too,” a voice says behind me.
I rocket up and spin around to see Christian, standing in the doorway looking at me with a smile on his face that warms my heart, that try as I might, I can’t stop. At the same time, tears begin to fill my eyes.
“No!” I blurt out. “You—you can’t be here! What are you doing here, Christian?”
“I came to find you,” he replies. “I had to explain—”