Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 137119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
“She’ll get through it,” she whispered. “And she’ll get us through it. Because she’s Polly.”
He didn’t answer because he was fucking terrified that was a lie. That she wasn’t Polly anymore.
Chapter Seventeen
Polly
The door slammed shut and I jerked awake, sweat both cold and hot on my forehead, my heart in my throat as my nightmare still held onto me and taunted me with the thought that the bang of the door was the sound of it being brought into reality.
“Okay,” Rosie sang, her voice ripping through thoughts of violence and confinement.
Rain had only just left—or had only just left before I nodded off—and now I was getting sure that they were rotating on some kind of shift. Rain had arrived just as Heath was leaving. Though I knew he didn’t want to, leave that was.
I knew that because for the first week, he didn’t leave my side. Not once. Granted, for the first two days I was drugged up and barely conscious. That had been nice. All my wounds dull at the edges, the pain only a nagging ache. And I could almost pretend that it wasn’t that bad. That it never even really happened.
My only constant, the only solid thing had been Heath’s grip on my hand. His presence. The utter pain in his eyes. That had made it impossible to believe it never really happened. His mere presence was the reason I couldn’t sink into a fantasy. Couldn’t escape.
I didn’t tell Heath that his presence, his pain was a reason I couldn’t escape mine, even for a second. Because if I did, he’d leave. Even though no one could make him move from my side the first week and it seemed like a physical exertion every time he did it now, he’d leave in a heartbeat if I told him the truth.
Because he cared for me.
I’d been so dumb, so blind to it before because he was so good at acting like he didn’t care about me. But no one put that much effort into an act if they didn’t care.
I was too caught up in my own pain to truly see that.
Or what I’d thought was pain before.
Now I was drowning in pain, getting choked by it, I saw how much Heath cared. How much he loved me. Just in time to see how much that love was torturing him. And if he knew it was torturing me too, he’d leave. And though my mangled, bleeding heart was barely beating, I wasn’t going to completely destroy it with Heath’s absence.
It was selfish of me. So fucking selfish. I needed to push him away. Needed to somehow get him away from me. From the pain my presence, my healing bruises, cuts, and broken soul caused him.
Caused everyone around me.
My parents didn’t know.
That fight had been almost as big as the one about me not going to a hospital. I’d needed a hospital. I knew that. I knew the extent of my injuries. I’d lived them. Every single one was lined up in a neat and tidy list in my otherwise messy mind. The list was long. But I wouldn’t survive a hospital. That clean, stark environment. All sorts of strangers’ hands on me.
No.
I could barely stand the kind doctor who had worked on me in the Greenstone Security office.
She was the only one that knew every single one of my injuries. I couldn’t quite remember how she’d gotten Heath out of the room to examine me. There was shouting. Swearing.
Her voice had stayed calm and constant.
And she’d managed the impossible, to out-stubborn Heath.
So she knew.
And respected my wishes to keep my filthy, tarnished and dirty secret. On the proviso I let her examine me once a week. Let her talk to me.
Heath wasn’t around for that, of course.
No one was.
But the rest of the time, there were people.
Always people.
People I loved.
Adored.
Even Jay turned up.
Heath had not reacted well to the attractive, cold and dangerous man in a suit at the door. I was sure he’d been bracing for some assassin. Even though I knew the danger was gone. In other words, everyone was dead.
That should’ve bothered me more than it did.
But I was still focused on the fact that the danger wasn’t gone. And they couldn’t kill it. Unless they wanted to kill me. Because the danger was inside me, my memories, my waking nightmare.
Hence why I slept so much. To escape the nightmare when I was awake.
And Jay had been affected seeing me. It was a small softening of his eyes, a working of his jaw, but to him, it was everything.
He reached forward and squeezed my hand, ignoring Heath’s clenched fists. I held my breath not to flinch from the touch since I knew what a big deal such a simple touch was to him. And if I showed an inch of discomfort, Heath would be there, trying to protect me with violence. I’d had enough of that.