Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
He presses my cheeks until my lips pucker, so it’s not like I can say anything, even if I had the first idea of what he wants from me. I shouldn’t have pushed him like I did. I should’ve let it go and waited until he was ready to talk.
“Nothing.” He shoves my head away before standing up straight, his chest heaving, his cold eyes staring holes into me. I can’t hide from those eyes. Even when I close my own, turning my head away and bracing myself for whatever’s coming next, I can still see him. He’s burned into my memory, half of his face cast in shadow, his eyes so empty.
He would never hurt me.
He sure looks like he wants to right now.
Is he capable of controlling himself?
Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut?
It isn’t his heavy breathing I hear next or any ugly words. I hold my breath, waiting. Please, don’t break your promise.
He doesn’t.
I exhale slowly, as silently as possible, when his footsteps ring out. Once he’s out of the room, I shudder in relief before my muscles begin to relax.
Not my arms or wrists, sadly. I thought the belt was uncomfortable? The rope is much worse, biting into my skin. Every slight twitch is punishment, chafing until I suck in a pained gasp.
That’s nothing compared to the agony in my head and heart. Why did he do this? Why go this far?
Because I wasn’t about to shut up, for one thing. Obviously, talking about what happened to him when he was a kid is a huge deal. He’s never breathed a word of it to me before now, not because he didn’t care, but because it hurts too much.
And all I could do was keep picking at him, asking questions, demanding. The lantern glows beside me, the flame dancing and jumping enough to make shadows dance on the walls. Shadows full of foreboding. Fear.
A sob begins to build in my chest. I pushed him to this. No, leaving me this way isn’t right. But if he’s never told anybody about his experience, and I was the first person he trusted, how else was he supposed to react?
A cult. What kind, I wonder? I’ve seen too many investigative shows and listened to too many podcasts because a range of ugly images instantly pops into my head. How did I not hear more about this? I wish I had been old enough to understand.
Yet another secret Dad and Uncle Roman kept. I sometimes wonder how they sleep at night with so much weight on their shoulders.
So Ren and Luna came from a cult. Nobody would ever guess it if they met Luna now. She’s nothing but sunshine.
Until now, I wouldn’t have believed it of Ren, either. He always seemed so normal. He had his darkness, sure, like Q. Like me, even.
But nothing about this is normal. This is not a normal reaction.
I’m in no position to help him through his memories; that much is for sure. I’m no trained therapist, and this is too personal for me. I can’t be quietly encouraging when it feels like everything is on the line. His happiness, his peace, our future together.
Obviously, I need to take it easy from now on. No more pushing for answers. I can’t put myself through this again, but that’s nothing compared to the pain I’ve put him through. I won’t push for what he’s not willing to give. It’s enough to be here, with him, just the two of us. Everything was going so well before we started talking.
Now that my heart doesn’t pound like a bass drum anymore, I hear him out there. It sounds like he’s cleaning up. It sounds like he set the table on its legs again, and soon, I hear the canisters that fell off the top of the fridge getting picked up and set down somewhere. Moments later, the sound of a broom getting dragged across the floor brings up the image of him sweeping.
That’s better than grabbing a knife from the drawer and slicing me to pieces, I guess.
Though I can’t imagine him ever doing something like that. My heart won’t let me entertain the idea, even lying here with my hands going numb. Ren wouldn’t hurt me. He loves me. Look at all the trouble he took to bring me here.
I don’t even know what I’m thinking anymore.
I only know it hurts like hell when I try to get myself free, rubbing my wrists together, twisting them as far as I can. The harder I fight, the tighter and deeper the rope digs in. I’ll break the skin if I’m not careful.
What am I going to do now? How do I get out of this? How do I get through to him—not only for myself but for his sake too? Even more for his sake, come to think of it. I need to bring him back from the dark place I sent him to. I’m supposed to make his life better, right?