Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 140523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 703(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
I just stood there, my eyes caught in his stare. Suddenly the sting on my cheek was gone and the pain I felt in my chest took over.
“I think it’s time for you to find another place to stay, Dylan,” Mark said, and I jerked back, noticing how close we were standing.
A chill rushed through me and I stepped away from Mark, discreetly rubbing the spot on my chin where he had touched me. My stomach in knots, I looked into Dylan’s eyes until I couldn’t anymore. Would he understand that I’d needed him? That I wanted him to take my hand, link our fingers and take me away? He didn’t. The moment I broke eye contact, he spoke up.
“Is it, Zoe?” Dylan asked, and my eyes flew up to his again.
“Dylan—” Mark started.
He raised his voice and spoke over Mark. “I want to hear it from her.”
My breath got caught in my throat and I couldn’t say a single word. Mark could’ve held a gun to my head, yet I still wouldn’t have been able to say, Yes, Dylan, I think you should leave.
With Mark in the room, I couldn’t give him the long overdue explanation either, not when I knew one wrong word out of my mouth could cost Dylan his future, one he’d been working toward his whole life. I didn’t know if Mark was being truthful with his threat, but I couldn’t chance it, not on something that important.
I was so lost in my own thoughts, going over everything, trying to come up with a solution, an answer, I only looked up when I heard the apartment door gently close.
That quiet click broke something in me and I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs. There wasn’t enough air in the world, not after he left, not when I was standing in the same room as Mark. Realizing I was on the verge of having a panic attack, I pressed my hand to my chest in the hopes of slowing down my aching heart and tried to ignore the fact that I was feeling dizzy and hot and cold all at the same time.
After a few minutes of struggling passed and I had it under control enough that I knew I could move, I swallowed everything I wanted to say to Mark and headed toward my room in the back of the apartment.
“Where are you going?” Mark asked.
I just kept walking.
“I’m talking to you, Zoe!” Mark shouted, raising his voice for the first time, causing me to flinch, yet I still walked away without a backward glance.
My first stop was the bathroom, and that’s when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My face was flushed, my eyes big and lifeless. The left side of my cheek was a darker shade of red than my right, the sting had come back with a vengeance, and there was a bonus ache accompanying it. I wondered if Dylan would have stayed if he’d seen the harsh redness of my skin. I tilted my head up and realized my neck didn’t look pretty either with all the bruising.
None of it mattered though. None of what I was seeing hurt worse than the ache in my heart.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to look away. Grabbing a hair tie, I put my hair up in a ponytail and started grabbing everything. Then I went to my bedroom and made neat piles of my clothes on my bed. Dragging my suitcases out, I packed every single thing I owned. It took me fifteen minutes.
Tugging my luggage through the hallway, I stopped next to the door and got my keys out of the pocket of my jacket. I found the two that didn’t belong to me and pulled them off of my purple key ring. I looked up and saw that Mark was sitting on the couch, his back to me, shoulders hunched forward as he held his head in his hands.
My dad had sat just like that three and a half years ago when I’d learned that he wasn’t my real father. He’d been upset because he thought I’d be angry at him for lying all those years, but how could I? How could I be angry at someone who loved me every single day of my existence even though I wasn’t his blood? Seeing Mark sitting like that…that picture of him bothered me. What had he lost?
Nothing.
It was either walk farther into the apartment and place the keys on the kitchen counter or just drop them and leave. I chose to go with the latter and simply let them drop on the hardwood floor. Not even the sharp sound the metal objects made caused him to flinch or look up.
I stepped outside without uttering a single word, and he did nothing to stop me. He was free at last, I supposed.