Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 508(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Last week, I asked my parents again if there was any way I could get my driver’s license and learn to drive a car, but they were adamant I should wait until summer and give myself more time. I’m not sure what that means exactly, but I do know I’m tired of more of my life ticking away, so I’ve taken to going for longer walks every day, outside the perimeters of the Merryfield property line.
When I told my mother over the phone, a few days ago, that I’ve been walking farther each day, she became very agitated, and while I can understand why she’s nervous, I’m making this decision for myself. My father, luckily, jumped on the phone extension and sided with me, agreeing walks might be good for me, but I think it was just his way of appeasing me since he won’t agree to my getting a car.
I know my parents worry about me but, as Zac said two months ago, I’m going to be twenty in a few weeks. I’m an adult. And I am determined to do something on my own, even if it’s just walking. I need to test my boundaries like other girls my age.
At first, I only walked down the street and back to Merryfield. I had to force myself for a few days, until I felt comfortable, and I gave myself pep talks to walk a block, then another, and another.
My sense of adventure increased quickly. Being free was addicting. Each day I walked a little farther, blocks turning into miles. This morning I walked to a small park a few miles away, and I realized it was the exact place I had been taken, halfway between the school and my parents’ house.
Wow. This town really is small.
I freeze to the spot on the sidewalk with the deep zig-zag crack that I always avoided stepping on as a little girl. I had been stepping over it when the man had grabbed me, my pink sneaker in mid-air. The crack is wider now, with moss growing between its edges, weathered from time. My head swims and I sway slightly in the wind as my stomach clenches and threatens to empty here on the sidewalk. I swallow hard and step over the crack.
I make it to the other side, and I grab the hand of the little girl in my memory and pull her with me where she belongs.
My eyes scan the area, my heart pounding. It looks harmless. Like a typical park, with benches, swings, and paths. It’s empty at the moment, except for some birds hopping around on the ground. The only thing that’s different from that day is the season. Today, the leaves have already changed colors, the grass has turned brown, and the sky is dark with the promise of icy rain. I huddle inside my fall jacket as a breeze whistles down the street behind me. That day, the sun had been out and white fluffy clouds had filled the sky. Monsters don’t come out in the daylight, right in front of butterflies and blue jays, in a tiny town where everyone knows everyone.
But, in fact, they do.
I sit on a bench nearby and stare at that place on the sidewalk for a long time. My memory of being taken is both fuzzy and clear. The feelings are more vivid than the actual events. I can still feel how hard my heart pounded in my chest, how his fingers dug into my arm when he grabbed me. I can’t remember what my best friend, Sammi, and I were chatting about. Nor can I remember what the man was wearing, what color the car was, or if anyone else was around.
I shrieked. Sammi screamed. I was yanked backward. Sammi ran. A hand covered my mouth. The car door slammed. A man laughed.
It happened so fast.
In a matter of mere seconds, I was taken. Stolen from my own life.
And it was easy.
I’ve never been told the details of my case or the technicalities of all the crimes committed. All of that was kept from me by my parents and various psychologists and therapists. Feather says I could probably find out most of it by searching the Internet, but I don’t want to know. I lived it. I know enough.
There are only two things I want to know in relation to my past. The first is to find out where Poppy is. The second is to find my prince. I already know his real name, as I overheard one of the detectives talking about him when I was being questioned. Tyler Grace. Feather says she could find him in about two seconds, but I’ve told her no. In the books, the princess doesn’t go hunting for the prince. He finds her. Or they find each other. I’m afraid if I do it wrong, I’ll ruin the story.