Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
She came closer to the bed. “Truce.”
“Any woman who saved my brother’s life twice can’t be that bad.”
“And a man who rights his wrongs and sacrifices his life for someone else…” She struggled to get it out, like there would never truly be forgiveness for what he’d done. “Can’t be that bad either.”
He extended his hand to shake hers.
She stared at it for a few seconds before she placed her hand in his palm and shook it.
I didn’t expect Raven to ever love my brother, ever really forgive him for what he had done, so her tolerance was enough.
“I’m glad you’re okay.” She pulled her hand away.
“Really?” he challenged. “I thought nothing would make you happier than if I died.”
“You’re the man my sister loves. You’re the man my man loves. So, no, it wouldn’t make me happy. What makes me happy is knowing that those girls have been given their lives back, that the camp will no longer be the setting for such terrible things, that even the most terrible men can change. I don’t think you’ve redeemed your soul because you can never give back the lives you’ve taken, but you turned back on the darkness and decided to step into the light…and that does count for something.”
Thirty-Eight
Give It All Away
Weeks passed.
Didn’t take much for us to get back into our old routine, going for walks in the morning, making dinner at night, sleeping together in the master bedroom upstairs. Now, without the sense of dread weighing on our hearts in anticipation of our return to the camp, it did feel different.
Part of my life had ended, but it didn’t quite feel over.
I still dreamed about it. I could still feel the dry wood under my fingertips from the railings down the steps. I could still hear Alix’s voice even though he was dead. I could still smell the trees, feel the breeze, see the Alps every time I closed my eyes. My time at the camp was so dark that I felt like it would never truly leave me. Horrible things that I’d seen would always be a part of me.
Raven was happy, but there was always a hint of melancholy to her presence. It seemed like she had left the past behind her.
I called my brother to check in on him and his progress, and he said Melanie had taken good care of him and he was now back on his feet, just without a purpose. Retirement didn’t serve him well, and unless he got a hobby soon, he would go crazy.
I wasn’t sure what to do with my time. Being with Raven felt like enough for me. She read in bed beside me, and I did the same. The Count of Monte Cristo was epically long, so I was still reading it, while she powered through books ten times quicker.
The two of us had dinner in the city, and after we were finished, we took a walk down the sidewalk toward the Eiffel Tower. It was lit up like a Christmas tree, a beacon of hope for all Parisians. I knew it was particularly special to Raven because she never got tired of making a visit and walking down the path with the lit trees.
We reached the grounds and walked side by side, passing other couples in the dark, enjoying their late-night decaf coffees. The first day of fall had arrived. It was hard to believe that I had known Raven for almost a year. It had passed so quickly because of all the chaos.
She suddenly stopped in front of one of the benches while staring at the tall structure rising into the darkness, its brilliant luminescence like star fire.
I stopped beside her. I was so deeply in tune with her moods and body language that I knew she had something to say, that it’d been on her mind for weeks. I didn’t rush her to share because I knew she would come to me when she was ready. Now, I looked down at the side of her face and watched her eyes light up as they reflected the tower.
She finally turned her head and looked at me. “There’s something I need you to do.”
I stared, focused on her blue eyes, and waited for more.
“All your wealth comes from their labor, their sacrifice. I can’t enjoy it, I can’t spend it, not when I know how you earned it.”
My hands remained in my pockets, and I stared at her with my unblinking gaze.
“I want you to give it to the surviving girls. I want you to give it to the families of the girls who’ve passed. I want you to pay reparations for what the camp has done to them.”
She’d just asked me for the world. “You can’t expect me to give away all my money. Some, yes. But not all.”