Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 167819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 839(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 839(@200wpm)___ 671(@250wpm)___ 559(@300wpm)
I can’t breathe. My chest hurts and I grit my teeth trying to lift his weight off me. “Help me!” I manage to shout out. “Someone … help me…Dad.”
I’m able to roll him off and I straddle his stomach. “Daddy!” I shout, yanking on his shirt. Sobbing, my fists start hitting his chest, trying to bring him back but I know he’s gone.
I blink, my heavy eyes adjusting to the second-story banister where I found my father’s body hanging when I was twelve. I never visit the west wing. Not since that day.
The coroner had said there was nothing that I could have done. Or anyone for that matter. When I found him, he had been dead for several hours. I had just arrived home from school. My mother was out of town for the week.
I lay there with him on the floor for over an hour before someone found me. They had to pry me away from him. Mrs. Sinnett arrived and took me home with her to their house until my mother returned early from her trip the next day.
Sin stands silently next to me. He’s been hovering more than before. I can’t breathe without him watching ever since I had my breakdown on the side of the road and then again in his shower. Thankfully, he doesn’t speak. He too stares up at the banister that once had a rope wrapped around it. Today, the grand staircase that leads up to it is decorated with white roses and twinkling lights. Makes me want to vomit. It’s like she’s celebrating my father’s death. This house is over fifteen thousand square feet, and she couldn’t do this in another wing? Or outside? Any other place on earth?
“Miss Asher. Mr. Sinnett.” My mother’s head of the house—Francis—nods to both of us. The way his eyes linger on mine tells me he knows I’m on ecstasy. He’ll probably run to my mother and tell her. I hope he does.
He picks up one of the three candles that sits on the round table in the center. It’s a got picture of my mother and Lincoln. They’re hugging, both smiling on a beach. You can see their wedding rings. It’s obviously very recent. Since they married. Why she chose to elope with him and then come back here and have a reception is beyond me. I can assure her that no one here gives a fuck that the Lords have passed her onto to another piece of shit. It’s an endless cycle. I’ve already fucked four Lords. I can only hope that I’ll never fuck another, let alone marry one.
Francis takes a box of matches and pulls one out, lighting the candle. Then the other two. Waving the match afterward blowing it out.
I shake my hand free of Sin’s and numbly pick one up. Holding it to my face, I feel the heat from the flame. I’ve never been suicidal. But then again, is it something that takes time? Or do you just think I want to die and end it all? My father never seemed to be unhappy or gave the impression that he hated his life. Not that I could see. I think that was one of the biggest questions I had—why?
Why that day? Why this banister? Why no note to say goodbye? Had he decided he was going to end his life when he kissed me goodbye that morning before his driver took me to school? Did he have it planned the night before when he tucked me into bed and read me a bedtime story?
None of those things were out of character for him. He was always in a great mood. Made time for me and my mom. Of course, there were times the Lords called him to serve. And his work was very demanding. But he made sure to include us. To make sure we were aware that we were loved and valued.
The flame between my fingers blows around from my heavy breathing. It’s crazy what one little match could do. What a flame so small could destroy. I want to see it light up the sky. I walk over to the stairs and hold it out, letting the tip of the flame kiss the flowers where they start to wrap around the banister, lighting them up.
“Ellington!” Francis yells at me and runs over, throwing water from the flower vase that sat on the round table to put it out.
I watch the smoke rise before disappearing with disappointment and jealousy. I wish I could do that. Just float away, fade into nothing.
He continues to curse under his breath and barks out orders to have the flowers replaced. Just like my mother did my father. I know she wasn’t the same after he died. But it didn’t take her long to fall in love with James. She thought he could do no wrong. He came in and swept her off her feet and made me fall to my knees.